


Life After Death

by WhiteMustang1



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Captivity, Depression, M/M, Other misc beasts, Slow Build, Temporary Amnesia, Undead, Vampires, Werewolves, human death, so much blood, so no incest, they're not related here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2020-04-05 06:42:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 69,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19043239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteMustang1/pseuds/WhiteMustang1
Summary: With no memory of a life before, a young vampire believes that the only purpose for his existence is to do the bidding of the being that turned him - his Master - without question. To hunt for his Master, lest he be killed by the very thing that created him. Captured by a mysterious human in red, a human hunter of his species, he's forced to make the decision between serving the Master that has always provided well for him and finding more meaning to this mundane existence he's become accustomed to.





	1. Entrapped

**Author's Note:**

> The name of this work might change if I come up with something better. I'm bad at titles. And summaries. Oh well, what's important is the story itself, right? Chapter number may change too as needed as I progress through the story. Characters & tags will also be added as they appear. 
> 
> I've never written a vampire story and I generally don't like them since vampire culture has become pretty mainstream and cliche, but the idea for this came to my head and won't leave me alone. So here we are! Let me know what y'all think.

_Suddenly, there's a light. That's all there is. All there ever was. Bright, glowing, white. No, wait, it's changing… it's moving? That can't be right. Has it always been orange? Or… is that yellow? It's so hard to tell… it's shrinking. Why is it moving like that, like a ripple in the ocean? Swaying, flickering… How come it can't just stay still? What is this?_

He feels the cold of the air seeping throughout his being, eating away the feeling in his fingers, numbing as it spreads closer to his core. His eyes, once fixated on the candle-lit chandelier, begin to slowly wander about the room. He sees the area is covered in oddly red splotches, streaks, and dots, with the occasional maroon puddle. It's quite the stunning sight - beautiful, even, to see so many different shades of one color, painted across the area. On himself, too. Even though the stench of the area is quite harsh to his nose. His head heavily lifts itself off of the wooden wall it had been laid against, in doing so he notices his arms are up above his head, pinned to the wooden wall by some restraint he can't identify on his wrists. His right arm looks very different from his left though - grotesquely blackened, while the other looks the same color as his legs. He looks away from his arms, unconcerned since he has no reason to believe this isn't normal, as he scans the room. There's other things in the room that look like him - they too have their arms up against the wall, heads slumped downwards towards their legs. They have red on them too, originating from the sides of their necks and stretching down to the floor, but there's a key difference. They all wear white underneath the red, but he wears blue. He can't see their faces - they all have their hoods up, obscuring their faces into a shadow. _Or, maybe that is their face? Is that his face too?_ He doesn't know - he can't see or feel for himself. 

_**"Ah, you’ve awakened. Good."** _

His head lulls over towards the direction of the noise, looking for its source. He understands the voice, but doesn't understand why. Or what he's supposed to do after hearing it. In the darkest corner of the room, he sees a set of red dots suddenly appear. But they're different from the other specks of red. _They're… brighter?_ And there seems to be a smaller, black dot at the center of both of the red circles. 

_**"Don't be shy, boy. You may speak."** _

"I… eugh…." he manages to groan out, finding his own voice "Am… am I them? Are they me?"

 _ **"Them?"**_ a pale, slender, sharply tipped finger reaches out from the darkness, pointing towards the bodies _**"No."**_ the finger retreats _**"You - you are better than them."**_

He looks back over towards the slumped masses. _Is it because I'm blue and they're white? Is blue a better color?_

 _ **"Look at them."**_ he says gruffly with disgust _**"Pathetic creatures. Their vessels couldn't even withstand the gift I gave them - the gift of evolving past life's confinements. But you, young one, you accepted my gift. As I had hoped."**_

He didn't understand what all this means. _They're… pathetic? But they look like me. Does that mean I was pathetic too? But…. There isn't a "was." There's only a "now" - there's nothing before this moment._

 _ **"No, no…"**_ the deep voice continues _**"You are a predator, and they, your prey."**_

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There's the target. Master was right - this one looks easy. He's faced tougher challenges before. If he can successfully convince a hunter to isolate themselves in a back alleyway with him - willingly - within a few hours of meeting them, then this blonde bimbo should be no problem. He doesn't know what Master wants with her. He doesn't question his command, he only acts on it. Play by the rules and you'll get rewards, no questions asked. Maybe he'll see her again - sometimes the targets are recruited in, sometimes they're just a tasty snack - but it doesn't much matter anyways. As long as he delivers her alive, even if barely so, he'll be granted continued protection by his Master to do as he pleases, until the next subject turns up. Or, maybe, he'll be given a new power - it's up to Master to decide what gift he'll be given.

Continuing into the tavern, rather than remaining standing at the doorway, suspiciously eyeing a lone woman, he strolls up to the bar casually. He was a slow learner at first, grasping all the basics of human social norms and how to convincingly interact with them was difficult. Now, you couldn't pick him as being any different from anyone else. Well, except for his snow white hair. Though, this tends to work in his favor by making him appear more approachable. It's an easy conversation starter, after all. _"Wow! You're mighty young to be graying!" "What happened to all the color in your hair?!"_ Ah, if they only knew. It doesn't take that long for them find out, though. His hair has always been this way, but he tailors his response to each person to gain their trust. _"Oh, I know… my dad, boy, he had a full head of gray hair practically right after he was born!" "A buddy of mine played a prank on me. Scared me so much I woke up the next day with my pillow brown and my hair white!"_ If he stays in one city for too long, though, he does find he has to start dying it another color. Word gets out quick when multiple people start turning up missing, having last been seen with a blue eyed, white-haired man. 

Out of his peripheral vision, he can see her swirling the contents of a single glass with brown liquid and ice blocks inside rubbing her temple with the other hand as she stared intently into the glass. He orders some drink off the board on the wall behind the bar's counter - he didn't care to take note of which one. He can't drink it anyways. It's just a prop. He takes a solid minute, pretending to look about the bar in search of something to do, before "suddenly" spotting her. Putting on a convincing smile, he moves around the bar stools separating them, not too eagerly but not slow enough to appear as though he's creeping onto her.

"Hey." he speaks softly to catch her attention as he sits at the stool beside her. She glances up at him briefly, acknowledging his presence, before looking back down at her glass. "..Rough day?" he says empathetically.

"You can say that." she mumbles. 

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"With a stranger at a bar?" she questions, quirking an eyebrow as she looks up at him "No thanks."

"Well," he began as he looks as his own glass of liquor "sometimes the things that bother a person the most are things they can't talk about with people they know. Sometimes it helps to just let it out on a stranger." he smiles warmly at her "But I understand where you're coming from. I probably seem a little creepy, a guy coming up to a woman alone at a bar when she's clearly feeling down." he chuckles before continuing "I've just been feeling a bit out of it myself. Misery loves company, eh?" he jokes with her. 

"Yeah," she scoffs, though not apparently to him "seems that way."

"Well…" he speaks up after a few moments of silence "I didn't mean to bother you. I hope the rest of your night gets better." he smiles at her again, though this time he receives one in response from her. Intentionally lingering for a moment, he goes to stand up.

"No, wait." she stops him, prompting him to cease his movements to look down at her with concern. "You can stay." Smiling again with fake surprise at her "sudden" change of heart, as if he hadn't planned on it, he sat back down and let her make the first move. "What's your name?"

"Nero." the sparkling glint in his eye as he responds, perceived by her as being a cute "unintentional" reaction to her accepting him, is actually the same look a hungry lion has when staring at a downed gazelle. 

\---------------------------------

A mere hour later and they are headed out the door together. She divulged to him about the problems she's been having in her business as of late, even admitting she was supposed to meet someone here at the bar this evening, only for them to never show. He, patiently, listened to each complaint she had with a smile. A rookie with little self-discipline would become anxious in this scenario, watching their victim for so long, so close that you can practically hear the blood pumping through their veins. They'd get impatient and pounce far too early, in public, blowing their cover. But not him. He knows better. They say only half of the newly turned survive their first year, with the odds of survival improving as the years go by. He can't remember how many years it's been, they all begin to blur together after a while. Master doesn't require them to keep count, and so, doing such would be a waste of energy. Being the _kind_ gentleman he is, he offered to escort the young lady back to her apartment.

"I'm okay, really." The woman spoke lightly, though she couldn't hide her smile or the tinge of pink on her face as they went through the doors. She had only a couple drinks and could surely make the short distance alone, though she's very obviously flattered that such a handsome young man would be concerned for her wellbeing. 

"No no, I insist. It's getting dark." He looks around the area, scanning the vicinity for threats. Not to her, but to him. "There's all kinds of weirdos out there." Like him. They settle into a comfortable silence as they walk, him putting his normal hand into his pocket. He pays little attention to her, barely even glancing her way. Not ignoring her, mind you, but staring down humans tends to make them nervous. Best to let them lull into a false sense of security until the appropriate time. 

"You know, I've been so busy talking about myself, I never even asked what happened to your arm." She pipes up, having been subtly looking him over the whole time. 

"Hm?" he hums lightly as he looks her way, pretending as though he hasn't noticed her glances "Oh, yeah." he lifts his right arm as it lays in its sling, its strap wrapped around his neck "It's a funny story, actually" he chuckles "I was reaching up to grab a can off of the top shelf in my pantry and I slipped. Ended up falling right on my arm and dislocated it." Not in the least bit true, he's perfectly capable of using his arm. But, it is quite deformed looking, which sometimes scares the more timid humans away if he doesn't somehow cover it up. Putting it in a sling is his preferred method, as it makes him look injured and weak - nonthreatening, rather. 

"Oh no!" she genuinely gasps "You poor guy, that must've really hurt!"

"Yeah, it did. Luckily my roommate was home, otherwise I would've had to drive to the hospital with one limp arm!" He jokes as he spots what he's been searching for just barely ahead of them - a large dumpster near the sidewalk, sandwiched between two buildings. Perfect.

"Well… if you ever find yourself in need of help, you've got a friend in me." she smiles broadly as she empathetically touches his arm, before immediately recoiling back in surprise "Whoa! You okay? You feel really cold!" Uh oh. Better wrap this up quickly, otherwise she might start getting suspicious.

"Oh, yeah, I'm okay!" he says as he uses his left arm to wrap his gray jacket around his midsection, as he can't use his right arm to zip it up, lest his cover be blown "I just get cold super easy. My roommate is always complaining that our apartment feels like a sauna because of me!" Lies - all lies. Casually, pretending to be embarrassed, he looks down at his feet, feigning disgruntled shock as he notices his boots. "Shoot… my shoelace came untied." Not a lie, perhaps, as it did become untied when _he_ untied it just before they left.

"That's okay!" she cheerfully says as she too takes notice of his loose shoelace "I'll wait."

"Oh, thank you!" he smiles as he stops in front of the dumpster, kneeling down onto one knee soon afterwards. She does just as he had been hoping for, placing herself in front of him as she waits, slightly closer to the dumpster than he is. He reaches his left arm down, acting as though he's struggling to tie the knot with only one hand for a few moments before lowering his right arm. Knowing her eyes are engrained on him, he groans and grunts lowly with every small movement of his arm, in such a way that makes it seem like he's trying to hide the non-existent pain he feels in his arm. 

"Let me help you with that." she goes to kneel down with him, but quickly stops when he waves his left hand at her. 

"No no, it's okay, I got this." He says breathily before returning to trying to tie his shoe, not making any noise this time but being sure that his face is crinkling up instead as he moves his slinged arm. Nothing makes a human more uncomfortable than watching a disabled person struggle, and her reaction is that in which he'd been counting on - she purposefully looks away from him, suddenly taking intent interest in the trees past him. He sees this out of his periphery, then tilts his head up just enough to confirm she's looking away. The warmth on his face vanishes, replaced with cold, malicious intent as he stares deeply at her, as if he can pierce into her very soul. 

His instincts kicking in upon the sight of her vulnerable state, he feels his fingers elongating, his fingernails morphing into a sharp tip, as his other features begin simultaneously changing at a rapid pace. Baby blue eyes are replaced with a deep maroon as a grin forms on his face, showcasing his teeth as they distort themselves from a previously flat surface into their current pointed state. His incisors, already always suspiciously sharp and long for a human, though he's learned how to hide them with his lips, lengthen and refine further. A sudden rush of adrenaline flows throughout the expanse of his body, soaking into his muscles and enabling him with a surge of increased power. 

\---------------------------------

Messily wiping the blood from his expressionless face as he stands up from behind the dumpster, he observes her pale, limp body resting against the brick wall for a mere few seconds, just to make sure she won't be waking anytime soon. Nope, she's out. Not dead, mind you, but close enough to make this easier on him. You might even think she's simply sleeping if it weren't for the trail of red fluid leaking from her jugular. Upon determining the job has been adequately completed, a dark, deep voice that is not his own intrudes into his mind, without his consent.

_**Good.** _

Master is pleased. Some of his kind enjoy this part of the game, the maiming of humans, but he's no masochist. He finds it to be neither pleasant nor disagreeable. He prefers the hunt itself, the challenge of out-cunning a smart human is much more satisfying than overpowering an already physically inadequate species. Though, the act of feeding does reinvigorate him, renewing his strength temporarily until it starts tapering off again as time passes. He doesn't prolong their suffering, opting to knock them out or simply kill them outright, not out of empathy but apathy. Better to end it quickly before someone has the chance to catch him in the act. She was no different, having been knocked out cold when he propelled the both of them straight into the steel dumpster's wall, before ultimately being dragged behind it. Poor girl never even saw it - or, well, him - coming. Bending over, he scoops up her body, tossing her onto his shoulder as if she was no different than a sack of feed needing to be moved to storage. He notices the ripped fabric on his right arm as he does so. _Damn, I ripped another sling._

Shaking off the now-useless material so he may be allowed to use his other arm freely, he looks up at the roofs of the buildings beside him. Squatting down as he stares up, he suddenly jumps straight up several feet into the air with ease, using the wall of the building next to him as a spring board to propel him further up, towards the other wall, eventually ping-ponging between the two walls until he reaches the rooftops. Safely away from prying eyes, he carries her towards the drop off point outside of town, where he will deposit her body for Master before leaving. Then, he awaits further instructions for the next target in the coming weeks, and the process repeats, just as it has done countless times before. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

With the sun now setting, its harmful rays no longer threatening to sear his deathly white skin, he feels safe venturing out from the abandoned ramshackle house he's been occupying ever since he completed his last mission over a week ago. He hasn't been informed of any new targets, though it's not uncommon for a couple weeks to pass before Master selects a new victim. No matter, this place is quite lively at night and will suffice in entertaining him for now. Travelling to the heart of the city, he takes to simply looking around at the scenes he walks past. Mothers and fathers strolling with their children, lovers finding the dank, dirty alleyways too irresistible, the loners that heavily avoid eye contact as they scurry along. He finds it beneficial to mingle among humans without the intent of hunting, rather only observing them to keep his social skills fresh. As his eyes dart along from one person to the next, he spots an attractive woman walking towards him on the sidewalk, her slick blonde hair nearly reaching her lower back - though he mostly notices her because she's decked out in eye-catching black leather, her top rather risqué in regards to her bosom. She appears to be looking around for someone, or something, until her eyes meet his. 

"Hey!" she calls out as she quickens her paces towards him, before they reach one another and stop simultaneously "Do you know if there's a Buckley's around here?"

"Yeah, it's a few blocks that way." he points over to the right. This, for once, isn't a lie - he had spotted a little restaurant named "Buckley's" a few days ago while he had been walking about, next to a seedy-looking joint named Love Planet. 

"That way?" she turns to also point to the right, trying to figure out where exactly he means. Though, the way she bites at her lower lip and furrows her brows would indicate she's still confused.

"Just go to the end of this street back that way," he points as he talks "take a left, a right, then another right and it should be right there."

"Oh, um…" she looks in the directions he points at "okay, I think I can find it." However, her tone is questioning, rather than factual. 

"I can show you the way, if you want." he shrugs. It's not like he really has anything else to do. 

"Would you?" she turns back to him happily with an accompanying smile. "Thank you! I'm sorry, I'm new to the city and I'm supposed to meet an old friend there."

"Yeah, it's no problem." he doesn't show much emotion or facial expression, but this doesn't seem to concern the naïve woman. "Follow me." Gladly, she walks behind the killer, oblivious to all the subtle signs that she should run far, far away from him. They walk in silence, with him giving her no further thought as they walk, instead only continuing his observations of the people as he guides her along.

_**Feed from her.** _

Of course! Why didn't he think of that? He can easily, and quite literally, lead this innocent lady into a trap with very little effort. Master shouldn't be bothered with the task of telling him to do things that should be obvious.

"Oh, wait, hold on - we can just take this as a shortcut." he abruptly stops and changes course into the alley they were about to pass, as if this decision didn't have that much thought put into it - which, he supposes, isn't far from the truth. He won't kill her, in fact, he won't even turn her - only feed. A relatively short process that'll leave her dazed and confused after regaining consciousness, with only temporary short-term memory loss from suddenly losing a significant portion of nutritious blood. She'll move on with her life, with no memory of meeting or being attacked by an odd-looking stranger. With his strength beginning to wane, he may as well take this easy opportunity now rather than waiting for the next target to show up, which may not happen for another week or two, when he's weak and hungry. With her cheerfully humming along behind him, he waits until they reach about halfway in, sufficiently far away from the streets, giving no indications of his intentions all the way. Feeling his body beginning to morph, his back turned on the woman so she cannot see his changing features, he prepares to whip around and attack before she has time to escape. Just as he feels the rush of adrenaline course through his veins once more, he feels a hard object slam with great force directly into the left side of his head, propelling him downward towards the ground. Not given enough time to process what just happened, his cat-like reflexes compel him to try and blunt his fall with outstretching arms - but still not quickly enough, as the right side of his head smashes down into the pavement below before he can cushion his descent, knocking him unconscious. 

\---------------------------------

Awakening with a deep groan as the pain on both sides of his head forces him back into reality, he lulls his head upright from its formerly downcast position. Blinking heavily, his eyes adjust to the light of the room he's in, though his vison seems to remain blurry. Confused, he furrows his eyes as he looks about, quickly realizing he's within some sort of enclosed plastic container. Glancing down at his feet, he makes a more startling discovery - he's sitting on a flimsy platform above water covering the last few feet of the bottom of the container, his feet barely a few inches from touching the surface. He looks around in the container with increased fervor as he tries to look for an escape route, attempting to move his arms but finding they're handcuffed behind his back. This isn't much of an obstacle, however; he can break metal fairly easily. He stops squirming, instead focusing his attention and strength to stretching the handcuffs behind his back, which will ultimately break them and set him free.

"I wouldn't do that."

His head snaps up to the sound of the unfamiliar voice, finding it difficult to locate the source with his sight impeded by the plastic barrier. However, he manages to spot something standing a distance away that looks like it may be the color red, ending with a white coloration at the top, above the red. He watches as the blurry figure comes closer, his features becoming more apparent as he does, stopping about a foot away. It's a human, about six foot tall, white haired, blue eyes, red coat with black clothes, muscular build. A pretty big guy overall - but he's fought bigger. 

_**Don't fight him.** _

He won't, for now. He has a sneaking suspicion that he knows who this man is.

"This is a modified dunk tank." the man says as he taps the plastic "And all that water down there," he points down, prompting Nero to look down at the water too "is holy water." Slowly, he looks back up at him with a deep frown and intense glare, filled with restrained anger as he realizes the human, for once, truly has the upper hand here. He'd honestly rather be had been killed than be put in such a vulnerable position by one of _them_. 

"It'll drop you in if you move around too much." he warns as he turns away "It takes a _long_ time for a priest to bless that many gallons of water, so, really, it's best for the both of us if you just stay still, alright?" the man grows smaller as he walks further away, ultimately sitting down across the room.

"What do you want?" he replies matter-of-factly, never having been one for pointless conversation.

"You're a part of a pack species, right?"

"A what?"

"You've got a leader? An alpha?" he remains quiet, which seems to confirm the man's question "That's what I thought."

_"What do you want?"_

"Ah, we've got plenty of time to talk about that. It takes your kind, what, two months to starve?" he asks rhetorically "You're lucky, some species only last a couple weeks. Well, I guess that's not really lucky in this case..." Nero watches him stand up "Make yourself comfortable. I'll be back later." And, just like that, he disappears, presumably having exited through a door.

Glancing around the room, he eventually looks back down at the water. Surely it isn't all holy water. He's seen some vampire hunters get rather creative with weaponizing the liquid, even going so far as to put it in squirt guns, but to fill an entire dunk tank with the intent of keeping a vampire captive? It's either insanity or ingenuity, and, honestly, if the man isn't lying, he's actually quite impressed. _If_ he isn't lying. With his feet bare, his captor apparently having confiscated his socks and shoes, he decides to make a calculated risk. Carefully, as he doesn't want to trigger the device to dunk him if this truly is holy water, he moves one leg to the side of the seat. He slowly lowers the very tip of his big toe down, hovering above the water's surface momentarily. Inhaling and exhaling loudly in preparation for the possible outcome, he just barely grazes the liquid before immediately recoiling in pain, involuntarily grunting as the very air he breathed in is forcibly ejected out by the shockwaves of agony violently assaulting his body. Taking a minute to recover, the corners of his eyes stinging with tears as he reopens his eyelids, he glances down at his big toe, noticing how charred and burnt the tip appears, with a small stream of smoke still emanating from the appendage as it slowly heals over. 

_Well, he wasn't lying at least._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later, as it turns out, meant five days of isolation, in a constant state of fear that his movements may trigger the dunk tank to drop him into a searing, torturous, slow death. When not fearful for his life, he's fuming to himself, imagining exactly how he'll tear the man apart the very moment he has the chance to. He knows that this is the man's intention, to make him slowly lose his mind, wearing him down mentally with the hopes he'll cave and give him whatever it is he's wanting. Master keeps reminding him that, under no circumstances, is he allowed to indulge him, though he knows that anyways. He doesn't take pleasure in killing people, but for him, he'll make a special exception. 

Staring blankly ahead of himself, as he tends to do for hours on end now with there being no visual simulation these past few days, his eyes immediately fixate onto the red figure that appears in the room. His brows furrow, face crinkling in anger as he recognizes this as being the man from before. He watches as the man once again approaches the tank, again stopping about a foot away. This time, he sees him reaching up to the top of the tank, fiddling with something for a minute before sliding the front panel of the tank down, allowing the two men to face each other without spilling the water or setting him free. They may only be a foot or two away from each other, but both men know that if Nero were to even attempt to lunge at him, he'd certainly be dunked before he even got close to grabbing him. He watches with murderous intent as the man crosses his arms, reciprocating Nero's direct eye contact for a couple minutes, obviously observing him, before speaking. 

"What's your name?" 

_**Don't tell him.** _

"My name is-" the man speaks again.

"I know who you are." Nero interrupts.

"Oh?"

"You're Dante, right? Son of the infamous Sparda?" he questions "The hunter that claimed to have killed over 5,000 of my kin? Disgusting." he looks mortified, as if Dante is the real monster in this scenario "I heard he had twins. I thought I heard this a couple years ago, but, _obviously_ ," he says as he clearly looks him up and down "I'm off a few decades."

"Can't all be blessed with the 'gift' of forever looking like jailbait." he smirks, sparking further anger in the other man.

"Too bad he got what he deserved. Shame the older son had to pay for his father's actions too." he sounds only slightly genuine at the end "I don't kill kids."

"Oh, good, a demon with morals. I love it!" he brushes off the man's attempts to rile him up. "Then, since you know so much about me, it's only fair you tell me your name." No response, but he still allows the vampire a minute or two to reply, though this ended up being fruitless. 

"Well.." he exhales loudly as he starts to lift the panel he lowered "I'll let you think about it for a couple more days. Maybe you'll remember then." He seals him off in the tank again, isolated once more. "Don't get yourself killed in there, kid."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Six days later. He can feel the hunger setting in as he approaches the three week mark from when he last fed. Normally, he can go this long with no serious issues, but when forced to sit in an empty room, alone with his thoughts, painfully aware of the strength leaving his body as he has no distractions from it, the intensity of his hunger feels exaggerated.

Waking with a start from the sound of the door slamming shut, he worries for a moment that the quick movement of him jerking his head back up will trigger the dunk tank. Looking around to make sure he is, indeed, _not_ submerged in the acidic water, he looks back up at the same man that's come to consume his mind with rage. 

"Good morning, sleeping beauty!" he exclaims loudly, approaching the tank "Ready to talk?"

_**Don't do it.** _

He obeys his Master and remains quiet.

"How about I cut you a deal?" Dante offers as he walks around to the back of the tank, out of sight behind the man. This sets him into an internal state of panic, given he can't keep an eye on him, but he suppresses the desire to externally express this. "I'll let you out if you start talking. I bet your legs are feeling pretty numb by now, huh?" 

"Talking about what?" he growls out.

"Nothing much. Just talking."

_**Don't do it!** _

"No."

"No? You're saying no to freedom?" Dante questions.

_**It's a trick.** _

"You're going to trick me."

"Oh, I get it. You're afraid of me." This time, Dante intentionally allows the silence to endure as he stays behind the tank.

"No, I'm not."

"Then come out and talk." He's taunting him, playing with him. Nero knows this, yet his pride can't help himself from falling into the trap.

"…Fine." he hears rattling going on behind him, before hearing the back panel of the tank slide open.

"Turn this way, you won't fall in." Dante reassures and, though he doesn't really believe him, he ultimately decides to scoot around so that he's facing him. Seeing that this didn't trigger the device, he looks over at the man, wanting to do nothing else but rip him apart then and there for making him go through this torment. He refrains himself, knowing that the man surely must realize he wants to kill him, and being he's the son of Sparda, he can likely slay him within a blink of an eye if he's not careful in his actions. He'll wait. For now. Or, at least, that was his intention. As Dante laid a single hand on his shoulder, to help guide him out of the tank since his arms are still pinned behind his back, he felt his body act without his permission. Before he had time to stop himself, he sunk his razor-sharp teeth into the man's pulsating wrist, desperately hungry for the food he's hoarding within. As soon as the liquid touches his tongue, however, he immediately releases him and cringes away as he's unable to stop himself from dry heaving, spitting out as much of the foul substance as he can. His blood is _by far_ the _nastiest_ he's ever tasted!

"Yeah, doesn't taste so good, huh?" the man laughs as he takes back his sore wrist, lightly rubbing it to stop the new punctures from bleeding more. The speed of the vampire shocked him, but the act itself did not seem surprising. He slides the back panel back up, trapping him once more. 

"You know, some vampire species keep their victims alive for days, sometimes weeks - draining them, letting them recover. Just to repeat the process again several more times before finally putting them out of their misery. I've seen the aftermath. Pretty disturbing stuff." he speaks as he watches the kid frantically wipe his mouth against his shoulders, eventually settling down again, though the awful taste lingers on like a haunting nightmare. He walks around the tank, heading towards the door.

"Don't worry. I'll let you recover before we try this again. You'll get used to it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some notes:  
> * "~" dividers means some time has passed between scenes, "-" dividers means it's later that same day.  
> *Bold and italicized is Master speaking in his head, bold and italicized with quotes is Master speaking while physically being nearby.  
> *Italicized is Nero's inner monologue.


	2. Surviving

A week. That's how long the sadistic bastard waited before making his next appearance. Leaving him here, alone with his thoughts - alone to brood and boil. He doesn't deserve this treatment. This is beyond torture. He's not a toy, meant to be played with once every few days before being put up on a shelf. He's a goddamn apex predator - at the top of the food chain! Just as the snake eats mice, so he devours humans. Would you cage and torment the serpent as well, merely for doing what comes natural to him? Of course you wouldn't. The insanity of starvation has begun to seriously impede his mental state; he hasn't eaten in almost four whole weeks. Over a month. In all his years, he's never gone this long without feeding. His body, aching with hunger, has taken on a permanent metamorphosis. The blue in his eyes faded some days back, replaced with the color of his drink of choice, his eyes themselves sunken and enclosed by dark circles on his skin. Arms, lengthened by a good half-foot, are tipped with elongate fingers sporting thickened, downwards curling nails finely sharpened, ready to incapacitate any human unfortunate enough to come across him with one swift swipe. His teeth, jagged and inhuman, grow sharper as time passes, just as his skin grays more deeply the longer it goes without being enlivened by fresh blood. 

The sound of the door shutting, though quiet, crashes throughout his mind, his sense of hearing enhanced. He knew he was close, he had heard the tapping of his boots against what sounds to be a wooden staircase outside as he approached. His head resting against the side of the tank, he had learned not too long after Dante left that he had kept the mechanism disabled. Not that it did him much good anyways. He broke out of the handcuffs, only to find the tank walls to be reinforced and beyond his strength right now. Of course, Dante must've known this, and likely also knew the brief hope he had of escape, only to be crushed moments later, would further infuriate him. Nero made a promise to himself right then and there to kill him by any means necessary, even if it kills himself in the end. He didn't care if he hates the taste of his blood anymore - he'll bleed him to almost the point of death, sever him alive into tiny pieces, then incinerate what remains before dumping the ashes down a sewage pipe. 

"You ready to talk now?"

He just stares at him, mouth slightly agape as his teeth have become too large for his own mouth.

"Still no?" he questions as he walks to the tank, watching the frail and dying demon. Coming closer, Nero could see his tan, pinkish skin more clearly… flush with the food he desperately wants and needs. His breathing becomes labored, drawing in abnormally large breaths as he tries to keep hold of what remains of his sanity. "Mmm," the man hums as he observes "the hunger is getting to ya, huh?" he asks, though continues on right after, knowing he won't respond "It's funny, really. Vampires can be so cunning, so crafty… but just starve 'em a little" he eyes him up and down "and they become mindless zombies."

He has no response for him. He can't really even hear him speak, he can only hear the pounding of his human heart, booming rhythmically, like a dinner bell. So close, yet so far… 

"Lucky for you," Dante says as he reaches into a pocket on the inside of his red coat "I've got a little snack." he pulls out a bottle filled with red. Shaking it enticingly, swirling its contents around inside, Nero's eyes shoot wide open as he lifts his head up. Placing both hands on the tank's wall, closest to the bottle, with fingers curled into a fist, his body shakes violently throughout, as if suddenly aware of how cold it is. "Oh-ho, you like that, huh?" he mocks with a smirk "Well, you've gotta help me before I'll help you." 

**_Don't do it._ **

Tearing his eyes away from the bottle of blood, he glares at the man intensely. 

"No." his voice, deeper and more gruff, growls out.

"Alright." Dante shrugs, going to place the bottle back inside his coat "Suit yourself."

"No, no!" he cries out, banging a fist against the wall with eyebrows furrowed in worry "Wait!" 

**_Don't do it!_ **

_I'm hungry! I'll die if I don't!_ No response. _Master?_

"Atta boy." Dante says as if praising a child. "You wanna help me now?"

"F…fine." he caves, receiving no reply from Master. He's so, so hungry….

"Good." he brings the bottle back out "Now, I'm looking for a specific vampire. Goes by the name of Donato."

"Don't know him."

"Yeah you do."

"I don't."

"You should." he crosses his arms, clutching the bottle in one fist "You're the one who turned him." 

"I turn a lot of people for Master." he rolls his eyes, as if he's supposed to remember the name of one stupid human. He didn't mean to mention his Master, but in his weak mental state, he's finding it difficult to control his brain-to-mouth filter. 

"Ah, well, it was worth a shot." Dante apparently gives up, turning away from his prisoner.

"No, hold on!" he shouts, prompting the man to turn back around with a smirk he didn't pay attention to "When.. when was this? What did he look like?" he says enthusiastically, never giving thought to the fact that Dante could easily trick him, extracting the information from him, only to kill him anyways. 

"Two months ago, in a city about 50 miles west. Dark hair, brown eyes. Wore glasses. About as tall as me."

Actually, come to think of it, he does remember him. He put up a pretty good fight. Definitely wasn't the easiest human he's had to track down, that's for sure. 

"Yeah, I remember him." he admits. 

"Good!" he exclaims, uncrossing his arms and reaching up with his free hand to the top of the tank. Sliding the front panel down just barely enough, he slips the bottle through the open crack, holding it for only a moment before Nero eagerly snatches it from him. As he tears open the lid with his teeth feverishly, he goes to chug the contents, then stops himself and merely holds it in his hands.

"This is too easy." he says, looking up at him in suspicion "I didn't even tell you where he's at. Just that I remember him."

"That's alright." Dante says as he closes the panel "Go ahead, you've earned it."

Looking back down at the bottle, he can smell the iron-rich scent seeping out, intoxicating his senses. This is a trick. He knows this. There's no way he isn't somehow deceiving him. Yet, he still finds his hands bringing the rim to his lips, throwing back his head eagerly as the liquid flows freely into his mouth. Not enough to satisfy him, but enough to quell his intense hunger. Dropping the bottle immediately after emptying it, the glass falling safely into the water below, he gasps in rapid succession as he feels his body changing back into a more human-like appearance. A painful process, given his body had grown accustomed to its alternative appearance. Groaning through the hurt, he hears Dante speak again.

"Now that you're feeling a little better, we're going on a little trip."

"What?" he says in disbelief as the pain starts to numb away, opening his baby blues slowly and looking at him "No. I'll give you a location, but I will not help you any further."

"A location? To one of your nests? For me to check out alone?" he chuckles "I'm not that stupid."

"It doesn't matter if I accompany you or not," Nero begins, leaning back as he puts his hands on his thighs "you'll be killed before you can make it through the front door."

"Oh, I see.." he contemplates, looking towards the floor briefly before glancing back up at him "My mistake. Members in a pack species are ranked, I guess I need to catch a higher ranking vampire then." he pauses "One stronger and more respected." Glaring at the smirking, cocky man, he can easily see the game Dante's playing. 

"I can't guarantee you'll live." he mutters out reluctantly "You try telling 30-something hungry vampires that they can't eat the food you brought straight to them."

"Ah," he waves him off "I'm sure you'll find a way." Walking around to the back of the tank to release him, he couldn't see the malicious smile on the young demon's face. He has absolutely no intention of leading a hunter anywhere, _especially_ not to one of his Master's nests. Hearing the panel slide down, he whips around his body at a speed fast enough to crack a human's spine. He uses his legs and the side panels of the tank to launch himself at Dante, plummeting both of them to the ground with a thud, with Dante taking the brunt of the fall. Straddling him, Nero pins both his wrists firmly to the floor as his teeth sharpen. Leaning in, with his mouth wide open, he aims for the man's neck.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." he says coolly, not attempting to put up a fight against him. Stopping himself, he hovers for a few moments, mouth still agape, as he watches his jugular pulsate. Closing his mouth, he decides to humor his meal.

"Because your blood is filthy?" he quips "Disgusting, yes, but still nourishing."

"No." Dante peers over at him "Because I haven't told you where the antidote is."

"Antidote?"

"That blood was tainted with a poison." he smirks "Slow acting because your metabolism is so slow, but still lethal after a week or two."

"You're lying." 

"I could be. Would you like to wait and find out?" Thinking over his options, he growls loudly in frustration as he releases the man from his grip. Standing up, he leaves him unharmed, though not willingly. "Smart choice." he groans as he sits up on the floor, rubbing his back sorely before standing.

"Mark my words, you _will_ regret this." 

"Yeah, probably." he dismisses him "Won't be the first time, probably not the last either. Now, about that location.." reaching into his coat, he pulls out a folded map. Unfolding it, he held it in front of his face. "…Where are we going?"

He hesitates, considering if he should just plunge into the tank full of holy water and end this now. Master, though he remains silent, won't be pleased about this. He will be punished for this, if not outright killed. Reluctantly, he approaches Dante, meeting him at his side to look over the map. He spots where the nest should be, but remains quiet. 

"…Well?" Dante questions, looking over at him expectantly.

"I'm going to be killed for this." he states in a factual manner as he stares at the spot. "But, if I must be killed by you, or by Master…. I would rather be killed by him." With that, he points the sharp fingernail on his index to a specific spot on the map, next to what appears to be a large city.

"That's not too far from here." he says, dismissing his declaration of death "Let's get to it." Folding up the map, he places it back into his coat before walking towards the door. His back turned to the vampire, Nero could easily, so easily, attack from behind… he would never even see it coming. Boom, dead. Just like that. He feels the urge coming on as he follows the man, stalking behind as if hunting him. Just a quick drink, that's it… that's all he wants. He makes this decision, only to quickly decide otherwise upon seeing Dante grab a particularly malicious-looking sword that had been leaned against the door. It sports an inhuman skull on its back, it's eyes burning just as deeply red as Nero's can. 

Glancing backwards at him as he places the sword on his back, he smirks as he directs his attention back to opening the door. "Just for good measure. My father gave this sword to me." he says as he opens the door "That's a vampire skull, in case you're wondering." he adds, having noticed him staring at that particular decoration when he looked back. Nero, disgruntled by the whole situation, choses to stay quiet. He only has to take him there, to take him to this 'Donato'. He doesn't have to entertain him by responding to his attempts to provoke anymore. 

With the door open, Dante leads him up the old, creaking wooden stairs, up to a hatch door at the top. Opening the hatch, the darkness around them is replaced by the soft, fading light of dusk. Ah, the night's air feels so refreshing compared to the air of the stuffy room below..

"Up." Dante states as he exits, reaching out a hand towards the vampire still climbing up afterwards, only to be harshly batted away. "Alright, alright." he says as he backs up out of the way, no longer attempting to help him. 

Standing up on the ground's surface, he breathes in deeply, enjoying the scent of the night. A smell he sorely missed while being held underground. Looking around, he spots a flashy red sports car - one, he assumes, must be the equally flashy red human's vehicle. He watches as the human walks towards the car, leaving him behind, confident he'll soon be following without his command to do so. Briefly, Nero contemplates running. Nevermind this bullshit, he just wants freedom! Taking a step in the opposite direction, Dante must be able to hear his thoughts.

"Antidote!" he shouts out a reminder, continuing on his path without stopping. Growling lowly, shooting the man's back a glare, he grumbles to himself as he follows in his footsteps. 

\---------------------------------

Staring out of the moving car's window, intent to pay as little attention to the annoyance beside him as possible, he watches the humans they pass by. Most, by this time of night, are scurrying home, safely out of the reach of him and his kin that stalk the streets they live on. 

"You know," the irritance speaks up, having been silent up to this point "most Knights kill themselves after being turned. They'd rather die than be a vampire." Nero furrows his brows irritably. "Well, the ones that survive turning, I suppose." Looking over at the brooding creature beside him, he notices he's talking to a brick wall. "Hey, you listenin' to me, kid?"

_"What?"_ he snaps out, looking over at him "What more could you possibly want from me?" 

"I'm asking you what happened."

"What do you mean 'what happened,' you caught me is what happened!"

"No, before you were like this."

"Before?" Nero questions momentarily, then rolls his eyes and looks back out of the car's window "There is no 'before'." he says in a mocking tone, annoyed he'd ask such a stupid question. Eyeing him for a few moments, Dante says nothing else in regards to the subject, before looking out at the road ahead again. 

"Is this the place?" he says as he slows down, coming to a halt in front of an old, but not overall repulsive, abandoned house at the edge of the city they just drove through. 

"Yeah." he says lowly. He's not looking forward to this. Not at all. He doesn't really have a plan - he has no idea how he's not only going to get him inside, but also back out again.

"Lead the way, then." Exiting the car, he goes towards the backseat's door.

"Leave it." Nero commands as he opens his door.

"Not a chance." he laughs him off as reaches for the handle.

"You're not going to fight your way out if things turn sour. There's too many. You have to go in looking nonthreatening." he warns as he exits "You've got to trust me." he says without thinking about how incredulous that request is. Trust _him_? A demon, after having tortured him for weeks on end? He wouldn't even trust himself - he's not even sure he's ever genuinely said those words in his entire life! Looking over at the human, he realizes the stupidity of what he said, noticing the strained look on Dante's face, along with his eyebrow cocked in suspicion. "Well, I mean, you-"

"Okay."

"Okay what?" he looks back up at him. 

"I'll trust you." Removing his hand from the back door, he leaves behind presumably his only defense against the hordes of undead inside. Walking over towards the stunned kid, he laughs lightly at the stupid look on his face. "I mean, you haven't lied so far. Tried to kill me, yes, but never lied." 

"Never say never." he mumbles as he normalizes his expression into emotionless. Humans are way, way too gullible for their own good. Leading the way, he guides Dante to the front door, placing a cautious hand on its brass knob before turning it. Inside the building, it looks empty. No furniture, no decorations, and, more importantly, no vampires. This is more than likely untrue, they're masters at hiding in the surrounding darkness, but given that the house is not full to the brim with the night walkers is a good sign. Pausing in the doorway as he scans the room, he motions with his head for Dante to follow him inside. Together, they slowly progress through the house, with Nero leading the way.

"Ohh… you brought us a snack, did you, Nero?" a voice calls from the shadows.

"No, I didn't." he replies simply as he grabs the side of Dante's coat, ensuring he sticks close by. 

"What?" another voice laughs "How selfish. Don't you want to share?"

"No." he states firmly as they continue to walk along, as stopping now will only test their luck.

"C'mon…" a third voice pipes up as its owner approaches them, coming out from her hiding spot. "You can't just bring in fresh meat and tell us we can't have him." Like a disturbed colony of roaches, suddenly there were dozens of vampires coming out from their dark holes, encircling them hungrily. 

_"Back off."_ Nero growls out, aggressively pulling the human in front of himself as he bares his teeth to the other snarling demons. He can keep a better eye on Dante this way. Grabbing his shoulder with his free hand, he unintentionally digs his lengthening fingernails into his flesh, not noticing his pained grimace as he pushes him in the right direction. He's not so much interested in protecting him out of valuing his life, but rather the situation has become about protecting what is, for right now, his property. It's about who's dominant around here. They seem to respect him, as they all keep a fair distance away, with none willing to break the invisible boundary surrounding him in a challenge. They remain impatient, however, pacing about as they watch their prey disappear with Nero in a hatch leading to an underground tunnel. 

"You can let go now." he grunts, prompting Nero to look over and immediately release him upon noticing the blood on his fingertips. Dante's lucky his coat is red - if the others had seen the blood seeping out from his shoulder, they surely would've attacked without hesitation. Rubbing at his shoulder, he carries on down the corridor, looking through the open doorways he passes. Though, he makes sure to not stray too far ahead of Nero. 

Looking down at his blood-soaked fingers, his hand trembles with anticipation at the sight. Slowly, he raises his hand up towards his lips, before quickly wiping off the substance on his pants before he has the chance to think twice about it. It may look delicious, but he still remembers the awful aftertaste. He'd rather wait until later, when he can get a more satisfactory feast. Quickly, he catches up to the vulnerable human as he spies him rounding the corner into one of the rooms.

"Oh, Donato…. what's happened to you?" Dante says pitifully as he observes the grotesque scene before him. Five corpses, or at least what remain of them, are strewn about, blanketing the room with varying degrees of fresh blood, with much of the rest of the room covered in black. Most likely, this black substance is old, dried out blood from past victims. In the corner of the room is a scraggily-looking vampire, furiously licking off all the liquid seeping from the dismembered human leg he's holding possessively. The beast pays Dante no attention. Nero knows that, since he was turned not all that long ago, he's currently in a feeding frenzy. This first stage into vampirism is perhaps the most dangerous time for both vampires and humans alike. The new vampire, drunk with power and hunger, carelessly hunts any and all humans he can get his hands on until his body is satiated, leaving him vulnerable to attack by a hunter. The human, meanwhile, if caught by him, stands no chance of escape, as a new vampire has no skill in charisma and no desire to outsmart the human - only to kill everything he sees. 

The leg sufficiently cleaned of its fluids, Donato suddenly takes notice of the new prey item standing in the doorway. He wastes no time in immediately scurrying across the floor on all fours towards the hunter, taking no heed of Nero's shouts to stay back from them. As the demon launches itself into the air, arms reaching out eagerly to catch his meal, Nero grabs at Dante's arm in a last minute ditch to save him, seeing that the hunter has made no attempts to flee. Too late, though, as he only has just enough time to pull his arm to behind Dante's back, rather than pulling his whole body, before the vampire encases him in his grip, mouth falling directly onto the human's exposed neck.

With a groan of disgust, he looks away, not much caring for the gore when he kills for himself, let alone witnessing another vampire do it. He waits to hear the thud of Dante's body hitting the floor, dead and drained.

"Thank you… thank you Dante, thank you…" a voice faintly whispers. Glancing back over, he sees the face and body of a normal human where the vampire once stood, peering up at Dante with tears in his eyes, still resting on the man's shoulder. "I'm so sorry." he manages to choke out as his body begins to disintegrate, slowly turning to charred ash, floating down to the wooden floor below. 

"It wasn't your fault. You didn't know." Dante consoles the rapidly disappearing body, straining his neck to look down at him. They share a smile together as his face falls away into nothingness. "Rest easy, old friend." he says to nobody as he watches the last embers fall. They both stand in silence for a moment before Dante turns around to exit the area. As he does, it becomes apparent to Nero, as Dante is in the process of putting it in his pocket, that he's holding a wooden stake. Looking up at him, in shock, he's speechless.

"Oh, I wasn't planning on using this on you." he explains as he puts the stake away, as if that's why Nero's so surprised.

"What just happened? What did you do to him?" he says, slightly panicked.

"Never seen a vampire killed with a stake before?"

"I have, but, they've certainly never been _happy_ about it before." his face, generally devoid of emotion, looks a bit funny as he struggles to contain his confusion. Dante opens his mouth, about to explain, when they hear a loud bang hit against the hatch they entered through.

"How about we escape now, and I'll explain later?" With a quick nod of agreement, Nero grabs him roughly by his forearm, dragging him in a full-on sprint down the hallway. There's no need to be sneaky now, they know he's here already. The death of their kin spreads quickly to any nearby vampires, like a sort-of sixth sense, warning the others to be on alert and attack if the intruder is spotted. They may have respected Nero's word before, but there's no stopping the frenzied horde of vampires now. 

**_You will pay for this betrayal._ ** _Master? Master, no, I didn't know!_

The fear engulfing his body, he runs as fast as he can, tightly gripping onto the man's arm, not caring that he's far outrunning the average human's speed. _Master! Please, don't!_

**_Leave the human. Face what you deserve._ **

Busting through the second hatchway at the end of the corridor, they enter the suspiciously empty home once more, since the labyrinth underneath the ground loops back to the house. It doesn't matter, Nero pulls him up anyways, rushing him through the front door and back to his car. Opening the door for him, he shoves him inside forcibly.

"Go, go on! Get out of here!" he yells at him before looking away from him, intensely scanning the area for any movement.

"Hey, hey! Hold on, kid!" Dante yells back just as loudly, forcing the vampire to direct his attention back down to him. "Take this." Reaching into yet another pocket, he procures an odd looking ring. He holds the jewelry up to the boy. "If you want to know more, just look up the insignia on this ring." Less panicked as curiosity takes over, he calmly takes the ring from him, looking it over briefly before looking at the man again with suspicion.

"What about the antidote?"

"There was no poison. See ya, Nero." he says with a smirk and a two fingered salute before closing his door. Before Nero could get another word in, the man races off, leaving him in the dust that his back tires kicked up. Watching his car get smaller and smaller down the road, he then looks back down at the ring. It's an old looking ring. Steel, it seems. Engraved with an odd looking symbol on the front and sporting a winged sword on both sides. He doesn't know what any of it symbolizes, but it's fascinating nonetheless. Hearing dark footsteps approaching, he only glances up just enough to see a tall figure, enclosed in darkness despite the bright lighting from the moon, before immediately falling down to his knees and bowing his head respectfully. Unintentionally, he drops the ring in the soil, no longer curious or caring of its existence. 

**_"Have I always treated you well, Nero?"_ **

"Yes."

**_"Then why, after all this time, have you betrayed me? Betrayed your kin?"_ **

"I didn't.. I-" he says quietly **_"You not only allowed a hunter inside, but lead him here. Protected him. Guided him to one of our own. Watched as he slayed him."_**

Deepening his bow, he stayed silent. He has no credible excuse. 

**_"I will not kill you."_** he pauses **_"I will only make you wish I had."_**

\---------------------------------

"You let him go?" Trish says as she enters into the passenger seat, having been waiting for Dante to pick her up. "Do you know how much work I had to do to catch that weasel?"

"He's got heart."

"Yeah, heart that hasn't beaten in hundreds of years." she mutters. Laughing, Dante responds.

"He'll be back. Don't worry."

"You're sure of that?"

"Mhm." he hums confidently as he takes off down the road, rejoining the traffic. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bleeding heavily throughout his body, from wounds he doesn't know the locations of, he crawls along the concrete floor with his good right arm - his other appendages have been broken beyond his help right now. He's trying to escape, to get away from his attackers, despite the fact that he's severely outnumbered and they have him surrounded, with no intentions of letting him leave alive. His already cold body is becoming more frigid as the warming liquid escapes from the openings in his skin, his body too badly beaten to keep up with the onslaught. His face, swollen and painful from the kicks to his head, has barely enough strength to lift itself from scraping against the floor as he crawls.

His Master, covered by a black hooded cloak, watches from the corner of the room quietly as his followers mercilessly maim his prized possession. Word spread quickly that he had led a human inside, not for the purpose of feeding, but to help him kill one of their own. Right under their noses. Master won't let them kill him, though. He's too valuable for that - his undead life is worth more than all of theirs combined. After all, without him doing his dirty work, he may never of achieved such prestigious status.

**_"Enough."_** his booming, distorted voice immediately sends the others into a complete halt. Fearfully, their eyes trained on Master, they back away from the bloodbath they caused. Slowly, he approaches the wounded demon as he lies helplessly on the floor, having given up trying to crawl as he struggles to breathe with a collapsed lung. **_"That will be all, for now. But,"_** he begins **_"Surely you must be hungry. Perhaps a quick drink will help you recover, no?"_**

"Yes…" he groans out.

**_"I thought as much."_** he pauses as Nero hears him moving his cloak **_"Here, child. Drink, so you may replenish your strength."_**

Tilting his head up, attempting to place his good arm underneath himself so as to support himself enough to feed, his decayed heart sinks further into his chest at the sight he sees. "No, please. I can't." he pleads desperately with Master.

**_"Feed,"_** he begins before gesturing his hand to the mob of angry vampires **_"or be food."_**

Lowering his head in shame for a moment, he looks back up at the frightened child before him. Tears stain his bright red, chubby face as he trembles before the monster in front of him, eyes wide with fear. Too terrified to try and run away. He couldn't be any older than 7. 

"Go on." Master commands "You'll find the taste of a child to be much more delectable than an adults."

"I don't… I can't…" he whispers to himself, his own voice shaky. Closing his eyes for a moment, he then uses what remains of his strength to push his body into a seated position on the ground, despite the pain it causes him. Looking at the child once more, eyes full of remorse, he slowly extends out a clawed hand to him. "Here, come here." he says soothingly "I won't hurt you." he lies to the child comfortingly. Looking around the room, petrified with fear, the boy looks down once more at the disabled vampire below, tightly clutching the ends of his shirt. He doesn't trust him. He shouldn't. "Where are your parents?"

"I..I-I don't k-k-know." he mumbles out through gasping breaths as the tears begin to roll again.

"Here, come sit in my lap." he pats his thigh gently with his free hand "I'll take you to them, okay?" The boy hesitates, then nods quietly as he releases his grip on his shirt, instead gripping tightly onto Nero's cold hand. Carefully, he guides the child into his lap, being gentle with him throughout. Though he can offer no comforting body warmth, he still wraps his arms around the boy, completely encasing him protectively. He holds him there until he feels the child hugging him back, relaxing into his grip as his sniffling begins to die down. Slowly rocking the both of them back and forth, like a parent comforting a baby, he rests the side of his head against the child's neck.

"Shh, shh… It'll be alright, okay?"

"O-okay." the boy says as he cuddles his face into the crook of Nero's neck, inadvertently exposing more of his own neck to him.

"Do you want to me to take you back home now?" He forces his teeth to elongate. Generally, the thrill of the hunt will automatically do this for him. But he takes no pleasure in this. 

"Y-yes." he sniffles.

"Okay." Nero lowers his mouth down "I'm going to take you back to your parents now. You might feel a little pinch, but that's okay, it'll be alright. You'll see your parents again soon." Nodding his little head, he remains oblivious until it's too late. Sinking his teeth as deep and fast as he can, the blood immediately begins pouring out of the boy's little body. He faintly cries out at the pain at first, but quickly slips into unconsciousness, as Nero had hoped. Within a half-minute, the ordeal is over with, though he continues to hold the now pale corpse in his arms. All he can taste is guilt as he removes his teeth from him. 

**_"Excellent."_** Master speaks, though the horde has since gone, leaving only the two of them behind **_"You have one last task."_**

"Okay." he says emotionlessly, staring down at the floor as he holds the boy's fading warmth, feeling his own body healing itself.

**_"You must bring that hunter here, for us to feed. Gain his trust, only to betray him. Do that, and I will begin to forgive your treachery."_** he leaves without another word - there will be no debating his command. 

Though, Nero still clutches the child tightly, unwilling to leave just yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Trish!" Dante yells out from behind his desk, sitting in his leaned-back chair as his feet lie propped up onto the desk's corner. 

_"What?"_ she snaps back from the kitchen.

"Someone's at the door!"

"Then go answer it!"

Sighing, he tosses the magazine he was reading onto the desk, placing his feet back onto the floor and standing up. Why does _he_ have to do everything around here? Walking towards the double-door entrance, the impatient customer knocks again more loudly.

"I'm coming, I'm coming! Sheesh." he mutters before making to open the door "Devil May-oof!" Grabbed by the collar of his shirt, he's forcibly removed from the entrance of his shop, pulled down onto the sidewalk, before ultimately lifted into the air and slammed against the outer brick wall of his own home. 

"You _ruined_ me, you piece of shit!" Nero growls out through clenched teeth, eyes burning red.

"Oh, hey, kid-" "I used to be someone! I was at the top, no one dared to cross me! Now look at me!" His clothes, tattered and dirty, match his overall grungy appearance. "There are vampires that I don't even know the Goddamn names of spitting at me!"

"Hey now, no need to-" _"Drop him!"_ Trish, weapon drawn and aimed directly at Nero, stands in the doorway of Devil May Cry. Turning his head to look at the woman, he recognizes her as being the so-called "naïve" woman he had led into the alleyway all those weeks ago. Looking back up at Dante, the fire in his eyes burning out, he begrudgingly lowered him back down to the earth. 

"I outta kill you right here and now."

"Do it and you'll have a body full of silver bullets in you, each one with a capsule of holy water that'll burst on contact."

"You think I care?" he looks back over at her "I have nothing. Nobody. I have no reason for existing, my Master has abandoned me."

"Alright, that's enough now, let's all just calm down, alright?" Dante speaks as he carefully removes Nero's clenched fists from his shirt collar "Trish, put that away."

"But he-" "Put it away." Glaring at him, she scoffs loudly before reholstering her weapon, entering back into the shop without him, mumbling profanities as she does. If he's gonna get torn to shreds, she certainly doesn't want to watch. 

"You need a shower." Dante says upon observing the demon.

"I don't exactly have access to a bathtub." he mutters as he stares him down, a frown deeply etched into his face.

"Hmm." he hums, looking him up and down before turning away from him "Well, we've got one inside." he says as he enters the shop. Following behind him, he stops just before the doorway, the tips of his boots just barely reaching the doorframe. Peering around at the building's contents, he's careful not to cross the threshold. He can see that it's filthy in here - almost as bad as a vampire nest. 

"Must be nice." Judging the man to be a lazy slob based on the excessive amounts of trash and debris, he looks towards Dante, watching him sit back down in his chair and pick up his magazine. However, he cannot follow him in without an invitation. That's one of the only rules they're forced to abide by. Surely the vampire hunters knows this. Peering out from his magazine for a moment, he speaks before hiding back behind it.

"Close the door on your way in, you're letting a draft in." 

"More like I'm letting in fresh air." he grumbles as he places a foot through the entranceway, smirking deviously as he realizes how easy this will be. Master will be pleased, he'll have him bagged and ready quicker than previously expected. Dante, meanwhile, is none the wiser, being far too interested in the guns the magazine is advertising.


	3. Deception

"You - you let him _in?_ " Trish says in a hushed, but no less upset, tone. Upon seeing the undead demon standing there, in the living room that's just as much hers as it is Dante's, she very unsubtly dragged her dumbass partner into the kitchen.

"Well, yeah." he says coolly with a shrug, rubbing at the indention she left on his bicep from her iron-clad grip on him. 

"Are you _insane_?! You just let a monster into our home, without even talking to me about it first!"

"I figured you'd say no." Dumbfounded, she bore holes in him with her eyes, mouth open as she struggles to comprehend the stupidity of what he just said. 

"First, you let him go. After months of me tracking him. Hours and hours of work, gone, just like that…"

"…Yeah but I said he'd be back. I was right, wasn't I?" he interrupts.

"Listen," she begins, rubbing her temples "I don’t care what your reasoning is. Or what you're planning. I don't want to hear any of it. You are on the hook for whatever this bloodsucker does, got it? He's your problem. Not mine."

"Nah," he waves her off "he'll be fine." Crossing her arms, she furrows her brows at him.

"You know, sometimes I wish I had a ladder that could climb into that head of yours. I'm sure it's pretty warm and empty up there anyways." she turns away from him, leaving the kitchen in a huff. He follows behind her, back into the livingroom, in a much more calm state than her as she exits the shop, slamming the heavy double door on her way out. She ignored Nero's existence as she left, though he clearly watched her walk out the door. Looking back to Dante, he sees him sigh and shrug.

"You know how women are." _No, actually, I don't._ "Always in an uproar when you let in an actual killer." He doesn't respond to this comment. _After all, he's right._ "Shower's through the door," Dante points behind himself with his thumb to a single wooden door "you got any spare clothes?" Looking down, Nero realizes his garments are well beyond repair.

"I usually take my clothes from the bodies I leave." he says plainly, looking up at him again. Generally, he's not this open with humans. He has to maintain his façade of being an average, everyday human, you see. Given that Dante knows his true form, though, there's no logical reason to waste energy in covering up the truth to him anymore.

"Is that why you're wearing a woman's shirt?"

"No, I like to crossdress." he mutters sarcastically.

"Well," he says with a chuckle as he stands back up "I'm sure you'd look sexy in one of Trish's tops, but she already wants to rip off my head. I'll grab some spare clothes I have for ya." 

He watches Dante leave, going up the staircase and entering the first door. Good. He needed to know which one of those two doors is his. Wouldn't want to walk into the trigger-happy woman's bedroom on accident. Going into the bathroom, he lays out a simple plan in his mind as he undresses. _First, take a shower, of course._ He may be a murderous demon but he does enjoy being clean - something he hasn't been able to do since being kicked out. All his time and energy has gone to tracking this idiot down. _Second, gain his trust._ This will take a while, but he expects it'll pay off in the end. _Be helpful, kind, but not deceitful_ \- if Dante suspects he's lying or just saying what he wants to hear, he'll automatically lose trust in him. Most humans have the fatal flaw of empathy, he'll simply play on the fact that Dante's the cause of his recent troubles. Hopefully, he'll pity the poor, disgraced vampire, which will make this even easier. _Don't be in-his-face about it, of course, nobody likes a pity party._ Empathy, combined with them "bonding" as time goes on, will be his ultimate undoing. He suspects he'll be a tough nut to crack, but they all cave into his charms in the end. He'll be no different, no matter how long it takes. _Finally, with his trust in hand, he will unknowingly, but willingly, be led to Master._

**_Yes. Good. Destroy him._ **

\---------------------------------

Stepping out from the bathroom, he's now dawning his new, clean attire consisting of a plain black V-neck long-sleeved shirt with equally plain black jeans. They're a bit baggy on his slightly smaller frame, but this is preferable to them being tight. Looking around the shop, he neither sees nor hears anybody within the immediate vicinity. Closing the door behind himself, he takes in the scenery before him that he had not previously taken note of. This guy takes after his father, that's for certain. Just as arrogant and nauseating as he was. The skulls and heads of various demons and beasts alike align the walls of the shop, some, he realizes, he doesn't even recognize. Display cases, full to the brim with specialized weaponry of all sorts, abundantly line the walls, butted up against them firmly. He knew, thanks to his search efforts ultimately leading him here, Dante ran a shop named Devil May Cry, a business specializing in the extermination of supernatural beings. But he had no idea the extreme extent of how blatantly he revels in his victories. Most hunters never dare to stay in one location, often traveling from city-to-city and offering their services to the local townsfolk before moving on shortly thereafter. It's safer for them that way. Once word spreads that a hunter has set up shop nearby, they immediately become a bullseye to anyone, or anything, lurking nearby. Even then, those who do stick around tend to hide what services they actually offer, usually setting up some sort of front for their real business. 

Looking down from the werewolf skull, to the case below it, he sees a simple arrangement of a single pistol surrounded by, presumably, silver bullets. Clearly, this man is not shy about what he does. _How the hell has he not gotten himself killed yet?_ Looking over to the wall behind Dante's desk, he sees rows and rows full of various wooden stakes. An appalling sight, really, as most still have the dried, red remnants of their last victims on them. Crinkling his face in disgust, he can't help but approach the wall with gross intrigue. Each one looks to be unique from the others, though he doesn't understand the significance of their differing appearances. Intently, he stares at a particularly beautiful, elaborately decorated stake in the shape of a crucifix, the longest point tipped in a metal casing with red etchings running along the rotting wood, towards the point. Each vein of red can be traced back to one of the three rubies on the crucifix, one on each of the other three points.

"That's one of the stakes my father used to use." Startled by his sudden appearance, Nero looks to where the familiar voice is originating from - the kitchen doorway. "The metal on it is silver. The red is the blood of holy priests." he continues, walking towards him with arms crossing. "It's supposed to represent how vampires bleed out humanity, so in death they have humanity bled into them, blah blah blah…" he waves this off "Whatever its meaning, it was pretty damn effective. Before the wood rotted out, of course." he stands next to the vampire as said being looks back up at the wall in neutral silence.

"This one," he says, reaching up high to pluck a specific stake off of its holster on the wall "is the one I used on Donato." Bringing it down, he holds it in the palm of his hand to show Nero, who inspects it curiously without touching it. It doesn't look like anything special, other than perhaps being made of older, engraved wood. "It's made of petrified wood from an ancient fig tree. Soaked in holy water for a decade, it was then blessed by pope Francis himself." Dante looks up at him briefly before mounting the stake back up in its rightful place. With the kid remaining quiet, Dante his monologue.

"They say that when a human gets turned, their soul becomes tainted with darkness. Tainted by the demon that they were infected with." he sits down at his chair, uncaring of Nero observing him "And that neither the demon nor the darkness can be separated from the human once it's there. Not even when they're killed and the soul and demon are released from their physical form." he picks up a magazine as he leans back "That stake there proves that's not true. A quick stab into the heart from that and the soul is absolved, free of the darkness. You'll still die, because, you know, hearts are fragile, but you'll at least die a human again."

"And those who were born within the darkness?" he decides to amuse him. Not out of genuine interest, of course, but rather so he can obtain his end goal more quickly.

"Ah, no, they can't be saved, but that's exceedingly rare. Vampires 'reproduce' by turning humans, there's only a couple mortal species that are actually able to produce vampire babies." he informs him "If you're asking for yourself, no, you were not born this way. Those of your species were all humans at one point or another."

_**Lies.** _

"Right." he scoffs. 

"I mean, have you ever seen any of your kind as babies?" he questions "Hmmm? No, of course you haven't, your species doesn't age. How ridiculous would that be, a pack of 400 year old immortal vampire babies?" he chuckles to himself.

"We don't come into the world as babies, dumbass." he rolls his eyes, already tired of the man's annoying presence. "Some of us simply come into existence, created by our Master, and some are turned. I was not turned. I was created." Dante looks up at him, quirking an eyebrow at the demon, though this goes unnoticed as Nero has taken to continuing to look around the shop.

"Well," he sighs, placing his hands in his pants pockets as he looks over to him "thanks for letting me shower here." he says with some level of genuine gratitude, not waiting for the elder to reply before heading to the door. Opening one of the double doors, he's greeted by a solid wall of rain pouring down just outside the door.

"You'll get another shower if you go out there right now." 

"Oh, really? Didn't notice that." he quips.

"Storm's gonna last the rest of the night. Might as well hunker down in my basement." he says casually as he continues to read. Flabbergasted, Nero turns to look at him. Genuinely, he's confused - and skeptical. He's making this way, way too easy. This is a trick of some sort, it has to be. No experienced hunter would be this stupid without some intention behind it.

"In your basement?"

"Yep, it's all I got, Trish takes up the spare room upstairs. Basement has a bed in it too though. May not be very comfortable but it's better than cold, wet concrete." he says as he slaps the magazine down onto the desk "C'mon, I'll show you." 

Standing up, Dante turns his back to him as he leads him into the kitchen, having faith that he'll follow behind without him looking back to make sure. Eyebrows furrowing in suspicion, he cautiously walks behind him, intrigued by what his game is here. He leads him to an old-looking, wooden broom closet door in the kitchen. The lock on it, however, appears brand new. Pulling out a ring of keys from his pocket, Dante unlocks the door, prompting a very loud, definitely not wooden clanking sound to emanate from behind the barrier, the noise stopping just before he opens the door.

"Ladies first." he smirks as he looks at him, holding open the door for him.

"You're going to lock me in." 

"What?" the hunter questions "Oh, no, I put a lock on here because the shop's been broken into a couple times. Figured it'd be safer that way."

 _Seriously? Does he think I'm really that stupid?_ Simply giving Dante a look in silence, the man continues.

"Here," he takes off the key from his keyring, then offers it to Nero "take the key." Reluctantly, he holds out his hand, still questioning why Dante is doing this, why is he being so helpful - what does he have to gain from this? Without hesitation, Dante drops the metal piece in his hand, then leads the way inside. He apparently trusts him a fair amount already, given how often he exposes the vulnerability of his back to him. Nero's unsure of what Dante has planned, but decides to go along with it for now. Who knows, maybe it'll be entertaining? Despite the lack of light in the area, his nocturnal eyes have no issue seeing what's around him as he descends down the staircase.

"See," Dante speaks as he turns on the ceiling light in the middle of the room, temporarily stunning Nero's eyes as the pain causes him to reactively cringe "got a bed ready and everything." And, indeed, in the dankest, darkest corner of the room, there's an old, metal framed bed, sporting only a thin, questionably dingy mattress. Yet, despite its grotesque appearance, it's still better than some of the beds he's slept in - on the nights he was able to find a bed at all, that is. "No sheets though, they're all in the wash." he looks over at the devilish boy, who raises an eyebrow at him.

"Are you retarded?" Nero questions the stability of his mind - a human, willingly inviting a vampire to sleep in his basement. Pure insanity.

"No," he shrugs off his insult "but I guess that depends on who you ask." Walking back towards the staircase, he waves him off. "Enjoy your stay at Hotel de la Devil May Cry." Nero watches him leave at first, then begins to scope out the area. There's just a bunch of cardboard boxes in varying states of decomposition, with some even having arachnid hosts crawling around on them. He spies an odd part of the wall furthest from him, hidden almost up to the top by the boxes in front of it. This small section almost blends into the concrete walls, having nearly the same color as the concrete around it, but the wall material in that one spot is obviously not the same as the other walls. Intrigued, he approaches. Hearing a familiar clanking sound a moment later, his neck snaps over towards the staircase. Immediately dropping his curiosity, he runs to and up the stairs, only to find his path blocked by a solid metal door.

"You son of a _bitch_! You lied to me!" he slams his fists against the reinforced door uselessly "I'm not your Goddamn prisoner, or a toy you can play with whenever you want entertainment! _Let me out_!" screaming at the top of his lungs, he continues assaulting the barrier, though the only thing he's succeeding in breaking is his own fingers. It's too thick of a door; escape is impossible. "DANTE!" he snarls, raking his sharpened, hard fingernails against the metal, creating an ominous scratching sound. He's not sure what he's more pissed off about - the fact he's trapped again or that he's been duped yet again by the same hunter. By the same _human._ But, he had to hand it to him, Dante's exceptional at tricking people into a false sense of security by believing he's less cunning than he really is. He'd make a good vampire, that's for sure. Too bad his fate lies elsewhere.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

His knees pressed against his chest as his back rests up to the basement's wall, next to the bottom of the stairs, he stares blankly at the space in front of him as he rhythmically knocks the back of his head against the wall, his arms wrapping firmly around his legs. His head is probably bleeding by now; he's been doing this for hours now. Much like an animal caged up with no source of entertainment, with only a bleak, imprisoned future to look forward to, he takes no notice of the pain, only that the repeated movement causes some sort of a distraction for him. 

He hasn't slept. He spent all day looking for any weak spots in the walls, a place that he could exploit and dig his way out of here. There are none. It's all solid. The blood from his fists on the uncracked walls proves this. He hates this. He hates himself. Constantly being outsmarted by a fucking human, of all things. This is never going to work. He's too clever. It's like trying to outwit himself.

_**Never say never.** _

Hearing the door at the top of the stairs clanking once more, he at first just looks up the staircase without budging from his position. Seeing the metal door slide horizontally into the wall, it reveals the old, wooden door behind, which opens soon after.

"Hey! Sleep well?" Dante shouts from the top of the stairs as he munches on a piece of buttered toast. Immediately, the young vampire is enraged by the sight of him.

" _Sleep well?_ You psychopath, I didn't sleep at all!" he screams as he four-limbed races up the staircase, as that method of locomotion is easier than standing up and using two legs, given he was sitting next to the stairs.

"What's got you in a mood?" he questions calmly with a cocked eyebrow as he watches the monster run towards him.

"You - you fucking trapped me again!" As he reaches the top, he transitions to standing on his legs, hands and arms outstretching towards him with malicious intent as his sharp mouth begins to open wide.

"Did you try pressing the button?" Dante chews without a care, not attempting to halt him.

"Try… what?" Nero stops a foot away, still holding his arms up but not furthering them towards him.

"The button." he points with his free hand to the black, round button on the wall next to Nero, inside the basement at the top of the stairs. Furrowing his brows, he glances over, following Dante's finger. Upon seeing it, he lowers his arms back down to his sides in realization of his gross oversight as he tries to understand how he managed to miss it before. "Yeah I had the metal door installed behind this one because it's a bit of an eyesore and Trish would've bitched about it," _And an old rickety wooden door isn't an eyesore?_ "but I couldn't have it just swing open cause that's a heavy door to have to open while on stairs… Anyways I ended up just having it slide open or closed whenever the door is open or closed, the key unlocks and locks it from the outside and the button opens it from the inside." Looking over at Dante again, Nero's blood begins to boil again. He knew he wouldn't realize there's a button. He knew that giving him the keys was meant to confuse him into believing a key was the only way in and out. He knew that he would freak out and think he was trapped again. He _knew_ all of this.

"What's your game here?" he questions sternly.

"What game?" he finishes the last bite of his toast.

"Cut the bullshit," Nero grabs him by his shirt collar "what's your game?" he growls out.

"See, that's where you're wrong. This isn't _my_ game, it's _your_ game. Isn't it?" he asks rhetorically "I know why you're here." _Shit. Was I really that obvious?_ Releasing the man from his grip, he exhales loudly in defeat. 

"What gave me away?"

"Well, you came here last night ready to murder me, but then just a few minutes later you were showering in my bathroom, suddenly no longer mad. Vampires don't just let go of a grudge. Pretty obvious something was up." Dante begins as Nero solemnly nods, mentally cursing to himself "So, you want info, am I right?" Looking up at the man, Nero hesitates for a moment, unsure of what this means.

"…Yes?"

"Then you've come to the right place." Dante turns away, walking towards the living room. Crinkling his face in confusion, Nero follows behind soon after, quickly dropping his expression when Dante looks back towards him. "You see, I actually need info from you too. Not about another vampire, but about your species."

"My species?" 

"Yep." he says plainly "Not much is known about your breed, y'know? Probably because most people that come across them either don't remember it or are dead. Makes tracking more difficult for me if I don't know anything about the target." Crossing his arms, he continues. "You want info, I want info. I figure that's a fair trade."

_**Come meet me.** _

"I, uhhh…" he stutters, his thoughts interrupted by Master "I need to… think about it." he says this despite still not knowing what information he supposedly wants from the man. Shrugging, Dante turns away from him, deciding to sit in his chair instead.

"Suit yourself. You know where to find me." Leaning back, he closes his eyes, hands folded neatly in his lap as Nero takes a swift leave out of the building without another word, not wishing to leave Master waiting.

\---------------------------------

Coming to a halt, Nero stands just outside the door to the abandoned house he once led Dante to. He didn't dare enter. Until he's gained Master's favor again, such an act would surely be his last. Contemplating if he should knock to announce his presence, he's stopped just before his fist contacts the door by Master's voice.

 _ **"Give him what he wishes to know."**_ he speaks. The intensity of his voice indicates he's very close, but yet he remains unseen. This is nothing unusual. Come to think of it, he can't recall ever seeing his actual body, if he sees him at all. Such details of physicality are unnecessary and therefore not of concern.

"Are you sure?"

_**"He won't live long enough to use the knowledge he'll gain."** _

"Understood."

 _ **"Here,"**_ he says after a moment of silence _**"take this."**_ Seeing something in his peripheral vision moving, Nero turns his head to see a moving shadow approaching him. Once close enough, a pale hand emerges, extending towards him a steel ring pinched between his long fingers. Taking the jewelry from Master's hand, he looks over it, immediately recognizing it as being the ring Dante had given him. He forgot he had dropped it - hell, he forgot about its existence. _**"Put it on."**_ He does as told, slipping the ring onto his good hand.

"How will this help?"

 _ **"I know what lies he thinks are the truth. What he thinks you want to know."**_ his hand retreats back _**"If you wear that, he will trust you more."**_ he offers no real explanation _**"Now, go. Do not come back without him."**_ Nodding, he turns around, heading back the way he came. 

_**"Stop."**_ he commands just as Nero is about to walk onto the road _**"Do not fall into his tricks. Is that understood?"**_ Nero looks back, even though he can't see him _**"He is crafty. Do not forget his lineage, what filth he spawned from. His very blood is filled with deceit."**_ with Nero nodding in agreement, he continues _**"Remember this. Despite his cunning, he is still beneath you. You are a wolf, and he, a sheep."**_

Seeing the darkest blotch within the shadows dissipate, Nero waits momentarily to ensure he's really gone. Holding up his left hand, he looks at the ring on his finger. He still doesn't understand the symbols on it, but… it doesn't quite look right. Turning his hand around, he tries to figure out why it looks wrong. Eventually, he removes the ring from his ring finger altogether, placing it onto his index finger instead. _That looks better._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Standing at the entrance, he inhales deeply, closing his eyes as he does so. This isn't going to be pleasant for him. If it weren't for the fact that Master wants him for himself, he would have killed him long ago. Or at least attempted to. Everything about Dante sets him on edge. His voice, the way he talks, his attire, his cocky smirks - it all irritates him to his very core. In fact, for the past couple of days, he's remained solitary - completely away from any other living being. Not even attempting to hunt. All because _he_ wore away enough of his patience that his mind demanded he take a couple days' vacation before forcing himself to endure his annoying existence again. Lifting his fist into the air, he knocks loudly at the double doors, bracing himself for the worst. For a minute, it seems as though nobody is inside, the lights within remaining off and the door unanswered. It's not that late in the day, only barely past dusk. _Surely he can't be asleep already?_ The lights flicker on just before the door just barely cracks open enough to reveal a single blue eye.

"Can I help you?" a feminine, irritated voice asks.

"Is Dante home?"

"No." she says sharply "He got called out on a job. A vampire, if I remember correctly. It wasn't you, was it?" 

"Haven't eaten in days." he says neutrally. She scoffs, opening the door only slightly more to reveal her full, beautifully flawless face and long blonde hair. "Can I wait until he gets home?" he tries to be polite, mostly because he knows he'll have to somewhat gain her trust as well before Dante will completely trust him.

"You can wait on the steps." Before he has the chance to respond, she slams the door shut again.

"Cunt." he mutters as he turns around, sitting down on the concrete steps, making himself comfortable while he waits for his return. To her credit, he wouldn't trust himself either, but she doesn't have to be such a bitch to him.

\---------------------------------

He must've dozed off at some point, his head lying on its side on his arms on top of his bent knees, as an intensely bright light and loud rumbling noise suddenly startles him back to reality. Blinking heavily while holding up a hand to shield his eyes, he looks up just in time to see the light next to him turn off, revealing itself to be a headlight of a motorcycle. As the owner of the motorcycle kills the engine, dismounting as he does, Nero too stands from his place, stretching out his sore muscles. 

"I guess this means you're accepting my deal?"

"Looks that way." he groans as he moves his strained neck around.

"Good." Dante says as he walks past him, to the door "Let's get inside." he says while opening it, holding it long enough for Nero to follow in behind him before letting go and fully proceeding inside.

"No!" Trish shouts out upon seeing the kid following in behind him. "Dante, no! I'm drawing the line here! It's one thing to bring it in here on a night when I'm going to be gone anyways-"

"- _he_ " Dante interrupts "wants to help us." Crossing her arms, she leans against his desk as they both approach, eyes intensely narrowing at the man in red.

"Is that so? Well, that changes everything then!" she huffs before looking over to Nero "Would you like to sleep in my room tonight? We can be bunk-buddies!" she obviously fakes a nice tone of voice, before rolling her eyes with disgust and moving away from the desk. _I'm not interested in succubus's, thank you very much._

"Ah," Dante waves her off before plopping down onto his chair "pay no attention to her. She's mostly all bark, only sometimes bite." Pulling out one of the drawers on his desk, he pulls out a pen and notepad as Trish scolds him. 

"Where do you want to start?" Nero interrupts their bickering, eager to get this over with.

"Well, how about I tell you what I know, and you just correct me or add details. Sound good?" he doesn't wait for him to confirm before speaking again "Now, I know you turn people by feeding off of them, then feeding them your own blood-"

"-it's not quite _our_ blood. The blood we have is what we absorbed from whoever we last fed on."

"Then how does that turn them if you're just feeding them their own blood?"

"Because it's their blood, but with the vampiric, uh, I guess you would call it 'gene' in it."

"Like a virus?" Dante looks up at him.

"Suppose so." He had never really thought about specifics of the process, really. "It still works if they get fed blood that isn't theirs, it's just not as effective."

"How successful is it, would you say?" he questions while jotting down notes here and there. As he speaks, Trish decides to join them, leaning up against the corner furthest away from Nero.

"If you feed them blood after feeding on them, probably about 1/3rd of them actually turn. It's more like 1/10th if you don’t make them drink their own tainted blood."

"And those that don't turn?"

"Dead." he remains expressionless "Only the stronger human's bodies can accept the gift, the others can't handle it and wilt away."

"And the ones who get turned, do they remember who they were before?"

"After a month or two, yeah. They go into bloodlust when first turned, all they know is they want to feed during that time."

"And you?" Dante looks up at him.

"What about me?"

"Why don't you remember?" 

"Seriously?" Nero rolls his eyes "This again? I've already told you, I've always been this way."

"Okay, then why?"

"Well," he breaths in deeply, walking over to and leaning against the nearby couch "for every pack, there's a Master. Different packs have different Masters. Each Master has to have someone do their dirty work of recruiting new members and such. So, they create another vampire to do these things for them." 

"Is that so?" Dante cocks an eyebrow, not questioning his very loose, nonsensical explanation. "So, you're second-in-command, then?"

"More like a glorified errand boy." he mutters "But I wouldn't want it any other way." he adds quickly, before Master can scold him.

"Hmmm," Dante hums before writing down a quick note off to the side "I’d say we're off to a pretty good start."

\---------------------------------

"So you can jump ten feet into the air while holding something that weighs just as much as you do, no problem? Just like that?"

"Well," Nero says as he lays on the couch, arms and ankles crossing comfortably as he stares up at the ceiling "that may be an exaggeration, I've never measured myself."

"That's actually pretty impressive." A small smile appears on the corner of Nero's lips from Dante's compliment, before quickly disappearing into a non-expression.

\---------------------------------

"Really? You can't eat any human foods? Just blood?"

"Nothing with all that crap your kind insist on pumping food with. No chemicals, preservatives, hormones - nothing processed, basically. No gluten, soy, dairy, nothing man-made or made from animals." he bounces a little rubber ball against a bare spot in the wall he's standing next to, watching it bounce off the wall, then bounce off of the ground back up at him "I haven't tried everything but I know I can eat most fruits and some vegetables at least." he catches the ball, immediately tossing it at the wall again "We have to eat fruit every now and then, actually. I don't know the specifics but fruit has some necessary stuff in it that isn't in blood."

"Okay, so blood and fruits…" Dante repeats as he writes it down, leaning his chair on two legs as his own two legs rest on the corner of his desk. 

"Oh! I forgot." he speaks, disturbing the silence while Dante is writing "I can eat chocolate too. Only dark chocolate though."

"Because you need it or for funsies?"

"Just for fun." Nero clarifies "I only eat it every once in a while though. People don't really carry cash around anymore, so I usually have nothing to pick off of their bodies to buy some."

"Got it. Tell everyone to stop carrying cash because a vampire might want to rob them for some chocolate money."

\---------------------------------

"Are you still up?" Trish interrupts Dante in the middle of his sentence as she walks back into the shop, having left some time ago for a job.

"No, I'm sleep-walking." Dante quips as he looks up from his notepad at her.

"It's been hours, take a break. We got a job early in the morning tomorrow."

"Ah, I forgot." he admits, laying the half-full notepad down on his desk "Basilisk are early risers, unfortunately. We'll have to finish this another time, kid." As he speaks, Nero, sitting on the couch, looks up at him as Dante stands up, beginning to make his way to the staircase. "Oh! You know what?" he turns back around to face him "You can come with me tomorrow night."

"Who says I want to-"

" _Excuse me_?" Trish interjects.

"Take a spa day, why dontcha?" Dante speaks to her "I'm gonna take the kid with me instead." She crosses her arms with a glare "Unless you want to come along still. Just figured you wouldn't want to." Uncrossing her arms, she huffs as she walks past him, going up the stairs.

"I still expect a check for my half." He only chuckles at this. Taking the opportunity to escape while they're distracted, Nero stands up quietly from the couch, beginning towards the door as he hears Trish's door open and close. He doesn't much want to play tag along tomorrow night; if he can get out of here before Dante notices, maybe, just maybe he-

"Hey, where are you going?" Nero stops. _Damn. Too slow. Guess I don't have a choice in this._

"You said we're done?" he looks back at him.

"Yeah, but the basement is that way." Dante points over towards the kitchen, earning him a raised eyebrow from Nero.

"You.. want me to stay here? While you sleep?" he questions skeptically "…Alone?"

"Yeah?" Dante says in a tone equal to his "What's the worst that can happen? Not like you might sneak upstairs and viscously kill me, draining me of all my- oh…" he feigns realization, eyebrows crinkled with a serious expression. With a nonchalant shrug, he continues up the stairs a moment later. "Well, if I'm meant to die tonight, I guess I'll die. G'night."

"Goodnight?" he half-questions as he watches the man enter his room with little concern, leaving the vampire on his own.

Looking around the empty building, he retains the confused look on his face as he tries to figure out how he should proceed with the situation. _This is a test, right? If I go up there, he probably has at least a dozen different weapons that could kill me before I even closed the door…_ He paces around the living room for a few minutes, looking about at all the trophies and remains of slain beasts, knowing he can easily be added as just another wall mount if he makes the wrong decision. Sighing heavily with a dissatisfied grunt, he heads back towards the basement.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Wake up!" A firm, gruff voice shouts into his ear. Startled, Nero sharply inhales as his whole body twitches into a defensive position as he lies in bed. Whipping his head around, he groans loudly when he sees the face of who woke him, immediately putting his head back on its side on his pillow with eyes tightly shut.

"You baboon! Do you have any idea what time it is?!" he yells at him as he tries to get comfortable again.

"Yup." Dante replies as he crosses his arms "An hour before dusk."

"And therefore an hour before I get up." he grumbles as he rolls onto his other side, facing away from him.

"Oh c'mon, I know your kind isn't completely nocturnal." he shoves Nero's exposed shoulder. In retaliation, the demon swings his arm, with his sharpened fingernails, at him as a threat.

"We're awake in the morning, when the sun isn't as intense." he mutters as he misses hitting him, as Dante steps back a pace "However, we are not awake in the evening!"

"Okay so we'll lather you up with some sunscreen and you'll be good to go, right?"

"Lather me with _anything_ and you'll find yourself 6 feet under." 

"Ah, lighten up, kid. Live a little." He backs up a little more as Nero twists his body around, getting ready to stand. "Or… die a little?" He receives a glare for that one. "Either way, we gotta go now, otherwise we'll lose her."

"I don't care." he mutters as he stands "This wasn't in our deal."

"Yeah it was."

"I said I'd tell you about my species, I never said I'd be your lackey." 

"You're just coming along to explain what she's doing." 

"What do you mean 'she'?" he crosses his arms.

"We've been getting calls in about a particularly annoying vampire lately." Dante turns away from him, towards the stairs "And we're pretty sure she's of your kind." Nero opens his mouth "No, she's not from your pack, she came from somewhere south." he closes his mouth. "Anyways, I think it'd be useful to observe her with you there."

"Fine. Whatever."

"By the way, I love what you've done with the place." he flashes a smirk back towards him before beginning to climb up the steps. To keep himself occupied, Nero cleaned most of the building during the night - even organizing the basement and adding sheets to his 'bed'.

"Yeah, well, don't get used to it."

\---------------------------------

"How long are we going to keep this up? She's not even doing anything." Nero complains.

"All night, if we have to." he stares down at the woman sitting on the bench, though she's barely visible as more than just a blur from this distance. The silence from before returns for another minute before Nero breaks it with an exasperated sigh, standing up off of the ledge they're both sitting on.

"This is a waste of time. She probably knows we're here."

"You said she wouldn't be able to see us from here?" Dante looks over at him.

"Yeah but she can still smell my scent." he says as he paces around the roof of the building they're on "I was hoping being downwind would make a difference, but obviously not."

"Why would you mean anything to her?" 

"Well, we're loyal to our own packs, but other packs are seen as threats." Nero looks over at him "Less food for us if there's another pack hanging around." With a nod, Dante looks back down at her for a moment. She hasn't moved - she's still just sitting on the bench, reading a book absentmindedly.

"She probably knows this is our territory and didn't pay much attention to my scent at first. There's a lot of us out right now anyways." he puts his hands in his jean pockets "But she probably noticed that I've been lingering around for hours now."

"Why is she here, then?"

"She's a scout. A throw-away, basically. When a pack is strong, we send out the spares to neighboring areas to see if we can expand our territory. Her purpose here is to see how good the food is and see if her pack could overtake mine." Nero meets his eyes "It's tough work. Not many survive as scouts, so we only send the weakest or newly turned at first. If the area looks promising, we'll send some stronger members, and so on."

"What makes us "good" as food?" he curiously questions.

"Healthy humans with no diseases, no drugs, stuff like that. Pure blood. Alcoholics can be fun to drink from, if you can get past the bitterness." Nero walks back over to him, reclaiming his spot on the ledge "I don't know why your blood tastes like shit though. It's bitter, but also really sour with a weirdly spicy aftertaste."

"Ah, probably because I'm not a virgin."

"That's just a myth." he rolls his eyes.

"For your species, maybe. I know of a species that specifically targets virgins." Largely ignoring him, Nero crosses his arms across his chest as he looks at the other vampire below. "What happened to your arm?"

"What?" he asks, looking over to him, as he hadn't been paying attention.

"Your arm." Dante gestures to his blackened right arm "What happened to it?"

"Oh. I don't know." he replies as he uncrosses his arms, lifting up his right hand and observing it front and backwards, given his long-sleeved shirt covers the rest of his deformity "I've always been like this." 

"Can I see?"

"I guess." he shrugs before rolling his right sleeve up, extending his arm out to him. Gently, Dante grabs underneath his forearm, stretching his arm further towards himself so he can better examine the limb. As Nero uncurls his fingers, Dante uses his other hand to run the fingertip of his index finger along the surface of Nero's palm, feeling how misshapen and rough the darkened skin is.

"It looks like you got burned. Pretty badly too." Nero says nothing to this, as he'd just be repeating the same phrase he's said countless times already. He lets him look over his arm, flipping it back and forth, stretching out his fingers, looking at the patches along his skin that are slightly lighter than the rest of it. Without lifting his head, his eyes shoot up, silently scoping out the area around them. This is the perfect opportunity - there is no better hunting ground than right here. They're alone, in the middle of the night, up on a flat roof of a two story building, with the only exit being a door leading in to the building, which is on the opposite side of the roof from them. A human is practically dead meat up here. His eyes moving to Dante, seeing him paying no attention to his surroundings, completely distracted by his arm - he's the dead meat.

"Dante." he whispers.

"Hmm?"

"I need you to trust me. For just a minute."

"Why's that?" he then let's go of his arm, looking up at him "Cause of the vampires circling us?"

"How did you-" 

"I'm not worried about them." Dante ignores his unfinished question, looking down towards the vampire they've been watching "Ah, damn. She must know they're here." As Nero too looks down, he confirms she has indeed left. 

"Oh well, another time." Dante says with a sigh.

"Dante, there's still-"

"I expect you to stay out of my way." he interrupts him again, earning him an agitated glare from Nero "And if you try any funny business, I won't think twice about adding you to the body count. Got it?"

"It's my pack, I won't just sit back and do nothing. I'll handle this." 

"You got two minutes." Dante compromises after glancing over his shoulder first for a moment, before looking at him again.

"I can do it in one." As he speaks, the shadows around them begin shuffling about on the roof, having sprang up from below. Deceitfully, they begin taking on the shape of a human as they approach. 

"No need to rush," Dante gives no care to the approaching danger "a bit of foreplay is good. Spices things up." he smirks, though Nero only gives him a disturbed look in return before turning his attention to the matter at hand.

"Leave. This is none of your concern." Nero speaks as the beings come into full view, surrounding them on the rooftop. Three females and four males, it seems. Their clothes would indicate they're no different from any other human, but their physicalities suggest otherwise. Darkened grey skin, maroon irises with elongate limbs and fingernails, sharp teeth spilling from their mouths due to their sheer size. It's obvious to him what's happening. _They can't be reasoned with. They're hungry._ They pay no attention to their kin, likely not even recognizing him. Their eyes and focus directed solely towards Dante as two of the males continue to creep towards them, leaving the other vampires behind. A common hunting technique, but quite effective - a couple of stronger individuals take the lead, prompting the prey to focus on them over anyone else, while the others stay back and look for a window of opportunity, before ultimately taking them down and feeding. 

_**Protect him. Make them submit. It will curry his favor. Kill, if you must.** _

"Find your own food, leeches." Nero stands up from the ledge, curling his fingers into fists as he approaches them. The two leaders shift their gazes to him, as he now stands in the way of their meal. "I'm ordering you to vacate." He knows he speaks to deaf ears, but still tries to avoid the impending conflict. Afterall, if he kills any of them, he's the one that must replace them.

Saliva dripping from their open mouths, the leaders both growl lowly at him in differing patterns. Bones, audibly snapping and popping, can be seen shifting in their positions, changing the entire structure of their once human-like faces to partially reveal the monster hidden inside. Enlarged jaws not only better support their new teeth, but also increase the normally weak bite force a human has. Cartilage in the nose has been eliminated, reducing the nostrils to slits on the face. A pointed nose can get in the way when feeding, after all, and having slits as opposed to holes reduces the chances of blood being shot up the nostrils. Even the ears have morphed, becoming flattened against the sides of the head with pointed tips. Working as a unit, both leaders simultaneously hunch their posture, outstretching their limbs just past the body as they wait for the right moment to pounce. 

"Fine. Have it your way." he barely finishes his sentence before they both leap into the air, towards him. Anticipating this, Nero mirrors their action, meeting them halfway in the air with a force stronger than theirs combined. Engulfing the left vampire in his arms, he uses one leg to firmly kick the other in the stomach as the two plummet back down to the roof. Swiftly, the second threat is thrown off the ledge of the roof by the force of his kick, removed from the fight before even being given the chance to do any damage. As they both fall, the remaining leader bites into his shoulder, crunching the bones underneath with ease. Undeterred, Nero rips himself out of the vampire's mouth as one taloned hand digs deeply into the side of his neck, holding him in place as he uses the other hand to slash at his exposed chest. Straddling him as he cuts, he then removes his claws from his neck, grasping his wrist securely instead while he shifts himself off of him. In one fluid motion, Nero flings him by his wrist into the metal roof exit door some thirty feet behind him, twisting his body backwards as he does. Using this momentum to stand, he faces him as the demon collides with the steel. Arms hanging down loosely, his palms are facing outward, claws ready for the next tussle. He pays no mind to the slow stream of liquid running down from his shoulder. 

As he emerges from the crumpled heap of bricks and metal, the vampire appears disorientated and dazed, but his eyes are still heavily focusing on Nero as he steadies himself back onto two feet. Approaching Nero once more, the source of the limp in his right leg becomes obvious as his fractured tibia sticks further out from his skin with each step. He allows him to get within a certain distance before beginning to slowly step back, his back facing where he last saw Dante sitting. The others, enticed by the smell of blood and the thrill of a fight, have begun creeping around the sides of them as the leader gets closer to him. He could easily dispose of each one if he were alone, but attacking right now would leave the human vulnerable. Sure, Dante can likely handle them with just as much ease as he, but he'd rather not risk it. There's too much riding on him being delivered alive. Like a dog, fighting over the possession of a scrap of meat, his guttural growls rumble to the others in a final warning to back off as he feels the heels of his feet hit the concrete barrier of the roof's ledge. The inferior vampires stop in their tracks, but the leader remains unflinching. 

"Hey, when're you gonna wrap this up? I've got a vampire I need to retrack down now."

Startled by this sudden interjection, the leader becomes distracted, looking over towards Dante with renewed hunger. He makes to lunge towards him, but it's over before he can even make it a foot closer. His body falling to the roof with a loud thud, he squeals and writhes like a dying pig as he grasps at the deep incisions to his neck, Nero's claws having nearly decapitated him. As the undead life fades from him, the vessel he leaves behind reduces to lit embers. With the lighter flakes being carried off into the wind, the only remaining evidence of his existence is a pile of heavy ash. Looking up at the followers, Nero challenges them with a fake-out charge towards them, arms outstretched at his sides. Without hesitation, they quickly scurry back into the shadows they came from. There's a moment of silence before the air is filled with the sound of hands clapping, prompting Nero to look behind himself at Dante with the same unwavering intense expression and posture. 

"Good job, kid. Now let's get out of here." Uncrossing his legs, he stands up off of the ledge, immediately heading towards the ledge opposite of them without any further glance towards Nero.

"Uh?" Nero questions with furrowing brows, exasperated "A thank you would be nice." Stopping about ten feet away, he turns back towards him, as if the thought never occurred to him.

"Oh, right, yeah. Thanks."

"You're an ass."

"I just didn't think about it."

"You didn’t think about being grateful?"

"Well, if I'm being honest, I could've handled that myself." With this, Nero scoffs as he shakes his head side to side in disbelief, looking away from him. "But I do appreciate you showing me first-hand how your species settle disputes." he smirks.

Opening his mouth to yell obscenities at him, he's stopped just short of doing so by the scene going on directly behind Dante. The second leader, whom Nero had presumed died by the fall, scaled the building's wall and has rejoined them up on the roof, relatively unscathed. Seeing the enraged demon running towards them on all fours, he realizes he's noticed too late - there's no time to warn Dante. Putting all his strength into his legs, he's running towards Dante at full speed within the blink of an eye. He sees the man's smirk quickly die as he grabs the hilt of his sword, and, with speed he didn't know humans were capable of, Dante pulls Rebellion from his back and makes to swing her at the white-haired devil just as Nero lunges himself in his direction. There's nothing Nero can do - he's going too fast. He can't stop quickly enough to save himself. As if he's seeing in slow motion, he can see the blade's edge creeping closer to the side of his soft stomach as the momentum of his jump takes him closer to Dante.

Without explanation, the blade changes course at the last moment, now moving in the opposite direction from Nero, allowing his body to pass next to Dante's in one piece. As he falls towards the roof, he stretches his arms out in front of himself, preparing to tuck-and-roll forwards and spring back up towards the vampire. As he rolls, he feels a clean rush of air above himself. Springing up moments later, he slides to a stop to look behind himself, towards Dante, having heard two distinctive thuds against the rooftop coming from that direction. 

"See, now _that's_ how you get it done." Dante says as he sheathes a bloodied Rebellion back onto his back, two piles of smoking embers sitting at his feet.

"Tsk," Nero scoffs, wiping the dirt from his shirt "I don't hesitate."

"Hesitate? He hit the roof before you even turned around."

"I didn’t mean in killing him." As he walks around him, Nero flashes him a knowing, satisfied smirk. Sure, he almost got sliced in half by him, but the fact that Dante didn't kill him, even though he thought Nero was lunging at him, is more telling. 

"What're you talkin' about? I saw something behind me and so I swung behind my back." Dante follows.

"Before that." He rubs at his shoulder, confirming that his wound has healed itself by now.

"I was getting my sword out, _if you know what I mean_."

"And swinging it towards me?" Nero ignores his innuendo.

"I mean," he chuckles "I've taken home some uglier broods than you when I drink enough."

"You must have some truly low standards to be hitting on someone not of your own species." Stepping up onto the ledge, Nero observes the iron ladder attached to the outer wall of the building.

"Ah, don't flatter yourself. Trish says I'd flirt with anything that has a pulse." An eyeroll from Nero just before jumping off the building's ledge. Not limited to the flaws and weaknesses of humanity, surviving a two story fall straight down is well within his capabilities, so long as he lands on his feet. "Then again… you don't have a heartbeat." Dante shouts at him as Nero falls "So, no, I guess I don't have any standards."

"Your girlfriend is a very lucky woman." he replies sarcastically as he stands upright, turning around to face him.

"My girlfriend?" Dante questions as he descends down the ladder.

"That woman who lives with you?"

"Oh, no, Trish just works with me. I don't date. I wouldn't do that to all the other ladies out there."

"You're a despicable human being."

"Judgement? From a vampire?" Dante laughs "Yeah, right, your opinion of me really means a lot."

Nero watches as he, excruciatingly slow paced, descends down the ladder. Why are all human movements so slow? How do they have the patience? His weapon, like a pendulum, swings back and forth with the movement of his back as he moves each leg further down the steps. Maybe he'll claim that sword of Dante's as his own once he's dead. It's got some pretty intimidating decorum on it. Good for scaring the others back into place once he's on top again. 

_**Do not even touch that retched piece of metal; that was his father's sword.** _

_Understood. It shall rot into the earth, then, just as his body will._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took longer than expected, not because of writers block, but because of time constraints. Ugh. Not much happens, but hey, not every chapter can be dramatic.
> 
> Also, feel free to point out editing errors - I use a lot of italics and boldings and sometimes I miss and/or screw up the HTML.


	4. Tolerance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this took a lot long than expected to finish, doesn't life know I have a story I wanna write?!

Quietly, he sulks about, scuttling along the darkest edges of town. Alone, and away from the street lights that would expose him, he searches for food under the moonlight. Any food will do at this point. Having spent the majority of the past few nights under the intensely watchful eye of Dante, intent on gaining his favor, he's grown thirsty more quickly than normal. He's more than certain he's never talked so much in his entire existence _without_ the intent of feeding on who he's conversing with. Playing the part of a good boy - well, good enough - is exhausting, to say the least. Regardless, good or evil, he does still have to eat. He can't deny his biology. 

Hands in his pocket, decked out in the same black attire Dante had given him days ago, head hung low, he realizes he must incredibly suspicious looking. Probably why he hasn't come across anybody yet. He's not looking for a conscious victim, however, and so gives no attempt to appear more approachable. No, for tonight, he'll settle for some stung-out druggie or blacked out alcoholic to drink from. Not the best tasting snack in the world, as well as there's the risk of some rather nasty side effects, but there's less of a chance that word will reach Dante if he only partially bleeds out someone who isn't awake to know they're being fed on. 

Causally looking down the alleyways as he passes, he eventually finds the one he's searching for. Sitting leaned up against the wall of one of the buildings, on a mattress just as stained and filthy as her, you might think she's dead if you didn't notice the slight rise and fall of her emaciated, barely clothed chest. With more care than likely anyone has given her, he gently grabs her bruised shoulder with one hand, the other hand - minding the still-hanging needle and tourniquet - holds her arm. Rolling her head to the side, Nero holds his mouth open as he allows his teeth to finish their metamorphosis. Inching closer, he closes his eyelids. Blood hitting the eyes tends to sting.

"You sure you want her blood?" a voice shouts from above. Sighing heavily, he moves his mouth away from her as his teeth shrink and shift back into place. 

"Want, no. Need, yes." he says as he looks straight up, spotting Dante standing on the ledge of the rooftop above them. 

"It's only been, what, a week since you last ate?" a ping of guilt forces him to look back down at the ground before he can correct himself "You've still got a while before you _need_ blood." As Dante speaks, he climbs down the fire exit, towards him.

"The longer I wait, the more hungry I get. The hungrier I get, the greater the chance I'll go into a bloodlust." Nero looks over at the descending man "And you don't want that. I don't want that. You know the vampires we ran into on the roof? It's like that, but worse." He's never had it happen to him personally, but he's seen it happen to others countless times.

"How ethical of you, to not want to kill a bunch of people."

"Listen," he lays her on her side on her 'bed' while he removes and tosses aside the paraphernalia in and on her arm, though she remains in oblivion "I know you don't care about if I live or die, but I do. I don't eat, I die. Simple as that." he looks up just in time to see Dante jump off the exit ladder, down the last couple feet separating him from the ground.

"Coming all this way to feed, though." Dante looks over to him as he approaches "If I didn't know any better I'd think you didn't want me to know."

"No, Capulet City just smells like shit. Unappetizing." Though, of course, Dante's right.

"Here," he extends his wrist to him "you can have _some_ of mine."

"No thanks." Nero waves off his hand as he stands up "Hers would've tasted better."

"You know I'm not going to let you eat anyone. It's mine or nothing."

"Guess I'll die then." Nero stares him down as he walks around him, before looking ahead of himself "I'm not your hostage. You have no control over me. I stick around because I want information, not because I have to. Information you still have yet to start telling me, even though I've told you everything you wanted to know." 

"That's actually why I'm here." Dante turns around towards him as Nero comes to a halt "There's an old library back in Capulet City. I think it might have what I've been looking for."

"You read books?" he quips as he turns back around.

"If I did I'd probably know which book I need." 

"So, how is this my problem?"

"I could use an extra set of hands going through their archives."

"Isn't that what Trish is for?" Nero mutters.

"It's, uh…" Dante pauses "her time of the month. Best to just leave her alone for now." Rolling his eyes, Nero makes to turn away from him. He has no intention of amusing him with a wild goose chase by trying to find some hidden puzzle piece. That's not his job. "Hey, look!" he glances back over, seeing Dante reach into his trench coat "I've got a treat for you!" Recognizing the rectangular box he's pulling out from his inner pocket, his ears ignore the patronizing, puppy tone Dante is talking to him in.

"Is that…?"

"Oh yes." Dante smirks as he holds out the red rectangle. Looking up at him briefly, Nero looks back down at the box before approaching him. Reaching his hand out towards it, he almost has it within his grip before Dante cruelly pulls it back towards himself. "But only if you help me."

"Fine." Nero snatches it out of his hand, eyebrows furrowed with irritation. Undoing the bow, tossing aside the red ribbon and the top of the box carelessly, he grabs the first brown square his eyes see with the tips of his long fingernails. Placing it on his tongue, he simultaneously closes his eyes as his lips seal together, engulfing the delectable treat within his mouth. As it melts down in reaction to the increasing amount of saliva, the cocoa coats the moist appendage it sits on as he moves it around, wanting to savor every moment, every taste. Unintentionally, he moans out a 'mmm' as his heightened sense of taste enjoys the euphoric substance within his mouth. 

"Did…" his eyes shoot open as he looks at Dante, still moving the desert back and forth in his mouth, who looks both intrigued and only slightly disturbed "What did I just watch?" he narrows his eyes at Dante, enjoying the chocolate too much to truly care about what he's saying "Huh. You just need a piece of chocolate. Impressive." They maintain eye contact for a few moments before Dante breaks it, walking around Nero as he grabs another piece. "Well, either way, just don't get my seats wet."

Quietly, Nero follows along behind him, complacent so long as the endorphin-inducing food is in his hands. 

\---------------------------------

"We're here." Tossing his last piece into his mouth, Nero looks through the car's windshield as it comes to a stop, immediately spotting the rather large, intricately designed gothic building in front of them.

"Let's just get this over with." he says as he chews, opening and exiting through the car door. 

"That's the spirit!" Dante speaks as he does the same. 

"Why this library?"

"It's the only one around open 24/7." he opens the library door while Nero follows him inside. " 'Night." Dante waves a two-fingered hello to the security guard sitting behind his desk. The man nods to Dante as he holds a magazine, but when looking over to Nero, he narrows his eyes in suspicion. As they both walk towards the archway leading to the next room, the guard either loses interest or decides he doesn't get paid well enough to pursue the issue, as he simply looks back down at his magazine. Seeing that the guard won't pose an issue, Nero looks ahead as he follows behind Dante, shuffling through the rows and rows of bookcases. 

"Over here? No…. Maybe there…" Dante mumbles as he looks at each overhead sign that identifies the genre of the large book section below it. 

"You know, it may help if I knew what we're looking for."

"Would it be under that? Possibly…" he speaks to himself as he guides them to a section labelled "Supernatural" at the end of the corridor. 

"What're we looking for?" Nero repeats himself as they reach the end, watching as Dante fingers through the bind of the books, reading the title of each one as he passes. "Dante?" he tries to catch his attention "Dante!" he finally shouts, now agitated that he's being ignored.

"Ah! Okay, if it's gonna be anywhere, it'll probably be here." he looks over to Nero "You know the ring you're wearing?" Lifting his left hand up, he observes the ring on his finger, before glancing back up at him.

"Yeah?"

"Look for that symbol on its face when you go through these books. Only the books on vampires though. If you hit werewolves, you've gone too far." Dante looks at the book he had his finger on as he slides it out from its spot. Initially, Nero watches him as he thumbs through the pages rapidly, before looking back at the ring on his finger. It's a rather odd design. An arrow-looking tip at the bottom, connected to some sort of wing-type object, with what looks to be an upside down double fishhook on the top. A peculiar emblem, to say the least. Should be easy enough to identify in a book.

\---------------------------------

"Hey," Nero calls over to Dante "I think I found something."

"Let me see." he glances over to the book Nero has laid open on the table. They had given up standing about an hour ago, deciding it would be more productive if they simply took a handful of books at a time, returning them back to their rightful places after individually going through them. As he looks over, Nero points to the red-colored version of the insignia on the ring, located at the top of the page, with several other symbols below. "Ah, yeah that's it." Dante returns back to his own book.

"Well what do I do? Write down what it says?"

"No, just read it and remember key points."

"Am I looking for anything specific?"

"Uh, kinda. We're looking for a location." Dante flips through the pages in his book.

"How exactly does this help me?" Nero looks to him.

"Just read it." Mumbling, he looks back down at the book, locating the emblem and reading the paragraph below it.

 _"Since the dawn of man, humanity has attempted to push back against their nocturnal hunters: The vampire. Throughout the ages, many anti-vampire groups and organizations have come and gone, often disappearing just as quickly as they appeared. Specializing in the extermination of all known species of vampire, The Order of the Sword was therefore not the first Order of its kind in human history. It was, however, the first to withstand the test of time. For nearly sixteen hundred years, the Order of the Sword flourished, expanding their influence and protection across much of the continent over time. At its peak, the Order stood 2,000 members strong across three dozen different locations. As populations of vampires became reduced to levels low enough to sustain human expansion and growth, other Orders began cropping up in other areas of the world that followed the same procedures and practices as the Order of the Sword. Working in unison, mankind no longer had to fear their most ancient threat as they once did. In 1630, the Order of the Sword fell on hard times and was ultimately disbanded in 1634. Three other groups, The Brotherhood, Tribes of Mohua, and Unity of the Light filled the void the Order left and later expanded their expertise into other supernatural beings."_ Below, there is another insignia displayed, followed by another paragraph describing the organization that the emblem symbolizes. 

"It just talks about the history of the Order of…" Nero glances back up at the paragraph, having already forgotten the name "The Order of the Sword." he looks over at Dante "I don't get it." Meeting his gaze, Dante responds.

"You never heard of the Order of the Sword?"

"No."

"They're the reason why you cower away from the streetlamps at night." he looks back down at his book "Without them, your kind would probably still be unchallenged."

"I don't cower." Nero scowls at him.

"Yeah? So you have no fear of vampire hunters?"

"Killed probably at least a hundred of them." he closes his book, putting it to the side since it wasn't of much help "So no, I can’t say I'm afraid of them."

"What're you doing?" Dante questions when he sees him discard the book without reaching for another "We've still got a long way to go, hotshot. Keep looking."

\---------------------------------

_"…started out with only ten members…" "...rumored to of killed over 100,000 vampires over the years…" "…corruption and mismanagement led to the demise of the Order…" "…the town of its origination was abandoned, with the population having previously consisted of members and their families…"_

"This is fruitless. All these books just have irrelevant details about the Order, none list an actual location." Nero huffs as he tosses aside yet another book. It's reaching early morning hours - he's grown tired of this search. "Why is the location so important?"

"The Order had sixteen hundred years-worth of information on vampires, the best methods of killing them, their techniques, hidden locations of other organizations they worked with. Organizations that are still around today. All stored at their main headquarters." Dante hands him another book, of which he takes with irritance "Figured you might be interested in that sort of info. Taking down those organizations could expand your pack's territory tenfold, easily." Suspicious, Nero narrows his eyes as he looks at him.

"You wouldn't give me that kind of information."

"Says who?"

"Why would you just _let_ me have that kind of knowledge? You're a hunter too."

"Exactly. Less competition, if you ask me. More loot for me." As Dante grabs another book out of the pile of unread books, Nero scrunches his eyebrows, doubtful of his honesty.

_**Change of plans. Retrieve the information before luring him to the nest. He'll try to kill you once he's located the archives - once he no longer has a use for you. Play your cards right and you will return with your life, the information, and him to feast on.** _

_Yes, Master. As you wish._

"Whatever. Can we go now?"

"Uh…" Dante looks over to the pile they still need to go through "You can head back if you want. I'm gonna stick around a little longer." seeing Nero stand up from his chair, he points vaguely to the spot next to his pile "Put the books that had something in them over there first."

\---------------------------------

Rubbing his hair into the few dry spots left on the towel, he leaves the towel hanging on his head as he gathers the dirty clothes he discarded on the bathroom floor. Sure, he may have snuck into his bedroom and stole another set of clothes from him, but he'll make it up to Dante by at least doing a load of laundry before going to sleep. Given the horrid state of his bedroom - dirty clothing lying about, old boxes of takeout food, the weird smell permeating the air - God knows Dante won't do it himself until he's completely out of clothes to wear. Not that he's one to judge. He's slept in areas in much worse condition, but humans are supposed to be fairly clean by nature. Such a shameful representative of his species. Stepping out from the bathroom, the steam from inside escapes into the rest of the building. Cringing away from the sunlight seeping through the glass windows, he looks down at the balled up clothes in his hands instead. _I need to pick up the pace. The light is becoming too harsh._ Taking a few steps forward, he comes to an abrupt halt, sharply looking up as he freezes. There's something in his peripheral vision - at Dante's desk. But, given the lack of obnoxiously red clothing, it's obviously not him. Slowly, he turns his head, meeting the gaze of a particularly scornful-looking, black-haired woman with oddly heterochromatic eyes. Her feet, once comfortably propped up on the corner of Dante's desk, firmly plant their booted soles onto the floor with a thud as she draws her pistol at him.

"Where's Dante?" she says calmly.

"He's at the library." He understands the skeptism on her face completely - he wouldn’t believe it either if he hadn't seen it himself.

" _Where's Dante?_ " she repeats with more intensity. 

"I told you, he's at the-" " _Damn it_ , parasite! What did you do with him?!" 

"I didn’t do anything with him!" 

The response he receives is lead-based - and headed straight for him. Ditching his load of laundry on the floor, he seamlessly slides to the right to avoid the assault. No standard bullet can kill him, but he'd rather avoid the sting of it piercing him. Holding his hands up in surrender, he attempts to calm the fiery brunette. He'd rather not hurt her - Dante will have his head for sure if he does. 

"Hey, whoa now! Listen to me, I'm not-" she cocks her gun, still pointed towards him "I'm not lying." he says more calmly.

"You have three seconds."

"What? Three seconds for-" 

"Three."

"-okay, look, he's at the library, researching-"

"Two"

"-some weird Order, I can take you where he's at and-"

"One." Nero braces himself to make a quick getaway, but as he goes to move towards the door, he's stopped by the door opening towards him. Suddenly halting, he realizes it's Dante on the other side. As the other man looks up at him, their eyes meet - and a bullet enters straight into Nero's temple. Eyes closed shut, he stumbles harshly to the right as he clutches as his head, running into the back of the couch hard enough to shift it back. 

"You can _clearly_ see him! _Right there_!" Nero yells at her as he doubles over in pain. He hears Dante laughing as the door clicks shut, though he's too busy digging around inside the hole in his head to pay attention to him.

"Ah, don't worry kid, that's just how she says hello."

"Why the hell is there a vampire taking a shower in your shop?!" Ouch, eugh… his fingernail scratches at the foreign object as he tries to wedge it out. 

"This is Nero."

" _This_ is Nero?!" there's a pause "You neglected to tell me a pretty important detail then." she says in an exasperated tone.

"Eh, you know I'm forgetful." Nero cringes as Dante speaks, having accidentally shifted the bullet further in.

"Dante," she whispers, though not even the quietest sound could escape his enhanced hearing "you can't be serious here." Nero manages to grab the bullet during the brief silence, before Lady sighs loudly "One of these days, someone's gonna bleed that big heart of yours dry." Groaning, Nero pulls the lead free from his skull, opening his eyes to look disdainfully at the bullet he holds by the fingertips of his thumb and index finger. 

"Just take care of yourself, alright?" Nero glances over to see Lady slap a manila envelope on Dante's chest, who meets her gaze as he grabs it from her "This'll help. Copied some pages out of a book I have." As Dante looks down at the envelope, opening it and pulling out the white sheets within, Nero discards the metal piece onto the floor. 

"You couldn't just let me borrow the book?" he looks over the pages.

"Yeah right, and let you get grease stains all over the pages?" she opens one of the double doors, shooting Nero a glare as she stands in the entryway "Next time I'll come prepared. Got it, worm?" she showcases her gun to him before swiftly leaving, slamming the door shut in much the same way that Trish does in his presence. 

"Okay, are there _anymore_ insane women you're friends with that I should know about?!" Nero is serious, but Dante laughs.

"You don't know the half of it." he chuckles as he strolls towards his desk. 

Thoroughly agitated, Nero mutters under his breath as he regathers the clothes on the floor. Reaching towards the dirty shirt, he sees the rays of afternoon sunlight hitting the deathly pale skin of his hand as he extends it further. Immediately realizing his mistake, though it's already too late, he recoils with an involuntary scream as his flesh begins to emit a horrid smelling smoke. Clutching his forearm tightly with his deformed hand, he collapses down onto the floor, groaning lowly through gritted teeth as the pain prevents him from properly breathing. As the smoke billows off his hand, he can feel the familiar tingling sensation beginning to spread from his fingertips. At the same time, he can feel an unknown hand grab his shoulder roughly, moving him up into a seated position before letting go, only to have arms that are not his own wrap tightly around him as he feels himself being lifted into the air. Startled, but still in agony, he doesn't protest but does keep his feet planted on the ground as he's forced to stand, though he doesn't have time to get used to it before being pushed forwards by the arm against his back. From there, his mind becomes too blurred to comprehend his surroundings. 

Rousing back into consciousness, he blinks heavily as his eyelids struggle to stay open with the world around him remaining fuzzy. But he can hear voices. They sound distant and muffled, but they're definitely there. With great effort, he attempts to move his head off of what it's lying on, though finding his attempts only result in him weakly shifting his weight forward before the crook of his neck ultimately falls back down against the object. He hears a deep voice next to his left ear, probably telling him not to try and move, but he's not certain. Leaving his head still, he looks around the room, though its swirling and mostly undiscernible. Staring hard in front of himself, though it's difficult with his head being at this angle, he's able to focus enough to see a deeply red appendage - his arm, he assumes, though he can't feel it - being washed by two other hands underneath the running faucet. The water is pure when it touches him, but the shadow of dissipating maroon under his arm indicates he's bleeding extensively. Blood that is not his own - but rather taken from such a young, innocent life. And here he is, wasting such a precious, stolen gift. 

He has no time to mourn the loss. He futilely attempts once more to move his head, eyes shut so that he doesn't become dizzy, though he's only successful in swiveling his head from side to side on its resting place, finding that there is something to his left but nothing to his right. Breathing in deeply, as he doesn't remember the last time he did, he gives up as he shifts his head to the left one more time, figuring it to be more comfortable resting against the object than straining his neck with the full weight of his head. It's no use. He won't die from such a brief exposure, but it will be an agonizing recovery, given his body is so well-drained of the one substance he really needs right now. From his left ear, he hears something. Something different from the voices that he's grown accustomed to. It's a noise, not a voice, rhythmic and pounding loudly against his ear. His eyes shoot open as he shifts his head to the right, though his face is still pointed left. _I know that sound._

Throbbing in rapid succession, bulging out from the pressure, his now-sharpened vision can clearly see the very thing he so desperately needs. A jugular, that is. Right there for the taking. He doesn't waste any time - his body had already prepared itself upon realizing he was hearing a heartbeat. With quick, exact precision, he digs his two lower incisions into the pulsating vein itself, using his sharp upper teeth to lock onto the flesh more securely. Probably out of instinctive reaction to the cut, the neck's owner twinges, but seems to tolerate it the discomfort. Immediately, the blood that hits his tongue nauseates him, but he'd rather feel sick than continue in this misery. _Must be Dante. Disgusting._ But, sometimes it's necessary to do things that repulse you….

On a good day, he can drain a victim dry in 20 seconds flat. But he still has a mission to complete, one that requires this prey's survival for the time being. Given the horrid taste, it doesn't take much discipline to control himself from bleeding him out. However, he's not really given much chance to do so anyways, as his mind and vision is forcibly plunged back into darkness soon into his feast.

\---------------------------------

For a moment, he stares up at the ceiling above him as he takes the time to try and comprehend what's happened. He doesn't remember even opening his eyes. _Where am I?_ Dazed and confused, his eyes wander around in search of the answer to his question. _Oh. I'm in the living room._ The blinds and curtains are drawn, though he has no need to fear the light at night. He glances down at himself, realizing he's lying on the couch. Noticing his sun-kissed hand, he lifts it up momentarily to observe it, though it's mostly covered in brown- and red-stained gauze. _Could've been worse._ At least he still has a hand at all. 

"You up over there?" It's Dante - though he can't see him. 

"Suppose so." he mumbles as he makes to sit up, quickly ditching this effort with a moan of pain as he lies back down. He grasps his forehead tightly with his other hand - now, for the first time, the better hand of the two - as his brain pounds against his skull.

"I wouldn't do that, I'd have a pretty bad headache too if I were you."

"What the hell happened?" he groans out as he tries to rub the pain from his head, shutting his eyes tightly. The memory of him burning himself is clear, but beyond that, all he remembers is a blurred haze.

"Trish knocked you over the head." he hears him coming closer.

"What? Why?" a nudge to his shoulder prompts him to open his eyes, looking to his side at Dante's outstretched hand, offering him some unknown pills in his palm "What is that?" he looks up at him.

"Just headache pills. It'll help."

"I don't know if I can take human medication." he looks back down at the pills.

"Should be fine, it's mostly just caffeine." With a sigh, he grabs the objects from Dante's palm, throwing back his head with a wince as he swallows them. _Not like I have that much to lose if it does kill me._ Laying his head back on the couch's arm rest, content with staying put until the drug can take effect, he looks up to Dante with a scowl. He's not a child - he doesn't need to be watched. With a shrug, Dante nonchalantly turns from him with the intention of leaving.

"Hey, whoa, wait- what's that?" Nero says as soon as he spots the side of Dante's neck. There, near his collarbone, are two parallel, freshly scabbed over 3-inch long gashes. He reaches to his neck as he turns back towards him, almost as if he isn't sure what Nero is referring to.

"Oh." he apparently remembers as he feels the wounds "It's no big deal."

"Did I do that?" Nero says with furrowed eyebrows. Not out of remorse or guilt, but rather surprise. He's generally not so violent when feeding.

"Kinda." he sighs deeply, the expression on his face only slightly annoyed, though this doesn't appear directed at him "You blacked out, almost fell right into the sunlight again," he chuckles "so I picked you up. Didn't really know what to do, but you were starting to catch fire so I took you into the bathroom, stuck your arm in the sink to stop the smoking. I guess Trish must've just walked in and heard me struggling, she came in and I held you up while she rinsed your arm…. as your skin started falling off." he shutters, and, really, Nero can't blame him "Anyways, I wasn't paying attention to where your head was at, and when you started coming 'round again, you must've decided you wanted a snack."

"So then I did do that?"

"You did these two tiny punctures up here," Dante stretches out his neck, pointing up to the very top of the gashes "and down here." he moves his fingers down past the slices, to a pair of small, circular wounds, no bigger than a pinhead - the marks from his lower incisors "But the rest was Trish's fault. I knew when you latched on, but figured, eh" he shrugs "it'd be more painful trying to get you off, so I was fine with doing nothing about it. Trish, however, saw a bit later and decided the best thing to do was knock you over the head. With your teeth in my neck." he crosses his arms across his chest "Ironically, I bled more from that than what you took."

"And this?" Nero lifts up his bandaged hand.

"Just gauze and some cream to keep your hand moist. We didn't really know what helps a vampire heal, never needed to know before."

"Blood." he answers simply as he begins unwrapping his hand. It'll only hinder him having it wrapped up and unusable. 

"Blood?"

"A well-fed vampire, theoretically, can stand in direct sunlight for up to an hour before being vaporized, because our maximum rate of healing is only slightly slower than how much damage the sun causes. The longer we go between meals, the slower we heal, until we reach a human-like level of regeneration. Or, at least, for my species I guess." As the last bit of gauze falls, he reveals his partially-healed over hand. The epidermis has regrown on the hand itself, but his fingers still have their intermuscular system underneath exposed. 

"So… that's because of me then, right?" Dante points to his raw hand.

"Your blood, yeah." There's a moment of silence before Nero looks up at him.

"No thank you's?" Nero scoffs loudly at this as he sits up, his head no longer throbbing.

"Thanks for letting me have a little of your shit-blood before I got knocked out."

"You're welcome." Dante walks away with a usual smirk, knowing, but not caring, that Nero was being sarcastic. "Here," Nero looks over just in time to catch a manila folder flying towards him "take a look at this." Pulling out the papers from within, holding them up in front of his face, the first thing he notices is a black-and-white drawing, surrounded by text words. It depicts a large, two-story, medieval-looking stone building lacking any ornamentation or design. It's surrounded by many other, smaller buildings, with similar construction in the distance, with what appears to be a blacksmith's forge and archery targets next to the main building. The scene as a whole is busy - there's men in white, hooded trench coats, sporting the same emblem on his ring on their shoulders, depicted in various states of motion and action. One holds a bow, drawn back and aimed at a target, another is hammering away at the forge, another is using the rooftop as a lookout post, a horse is dutifully pulling a cart full of chopped wood, led on by its owner on foot, and so on. At the topmost right corner, the title of the image.

"The Order of the Sword's outpost #24, located off the coast of Italy near Capri. 1437. Artist unknown."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lowering the drawing down from his face, the scene he was expecting is quite different from reality. Once proud and towering, the building before them now lies abandoned and in disrepair. The front door rotted back to the earth long ago, while the windows have shattered into a fine dust, carried off by a wind not all too different from the harsh winds they're experiencing right now. Still, at least it's standing, the miniaturized versions once surrounding it have all either crumbled into an unrecognizable heap, or have disappeared altogether. There are no targets, no bows and arrows, no horses or horse carts, no men in white trench coats. Only the faded memory of what once was. 

"You really think we might find something here?" Nero speaks as he looks over the depressing scene.

"Maybe. It's worth a shot." Dante responds.

"That was a very, very long car ride just for a 'maybe'." Looking over to him, he can clearly see the two, still-red parallel lines on Dante's neck. He himself had healed that very next day, good as new with only the painful memories left. But Dante, the poor human, is incapable of such rapid regeneration, and as such has only improved slightly these past few days. _Such a pity. It'll be a few weeks before he's healed over - if he's still alive in a few weeks._

"Quit bickering and just start looking." the sultry voice of Trish hushes them as she impatiently walks around them, to the open entrance "You're starting to sound like an old married couple." she adds, to which Nero responds with a disgusted expression, disturbed by such a demeaning comment.

"What? You could do worse." Dante teases as he notices the face Nero is making at him.

"And you couldn't do better." he mutters as he walks on ahead. 

"Ouch." 

Walking inside, he can see that absolutely everything has either degraded into nothingness or has been looted. He watches Trish head up the rock stairwell, up to the second level without a word to them. 

"This is a waste of time." Nero glances around, his vision not requiring light to see clearly.

"Maybe not." Heading towards the far corner of the room, Dante offers him no further information as he stands near the corner, hands on his hips as he looks down at the floor. Joining him, he realizes Dante's staring down into the open entrance of a small stairway, leading down below the surface. "You first."

"Fine." he doesn't protest since, after all, he does have the better eyesight here. Descending down the stairs, he hears the echoing of his boots fill the room below, soon followed by Dante's. Looking around as he reaches the bottom, he side steps for Dante. _Maybe this wasn't a waste after all._ he thinks as he sees the attic's walls are lined with bookcases, though there's only a few books left unscathed on their shelves. The rest all lie spread on the ground, water-damaged with their paper contents strewn about among the degrading furniture. "There's some books over here." Nero speaks as he walks towards the objects in question. Picking up one of the books, he hands it off to Dante, who's standing beside him soon after. As he grabs a book for himself, he can hear the clicking of Trish's heels joining them underground. 

"Bah." Nero spouts out a groan after a quick flip through the pages reveals that, though they have remained off the ground and their covers appear unscathed, they too are water damaged too badly to read the blurred out, molded text within.

"Yeah, not really a good idea to store books near the ocean. Too much moisture." Dante absentmindedly says as he too flips through his book, returning it to its spot on the bookcase soon after. 

"Hey, can you read the spine of those books? Or the cover?" Trish's voice comes from behind moments later. Closing the book as Dante regrabs his, Nero looks over the dingy cover of the fungal contents.

"Title or author?"

"Both, if it's still there."

"This one says, uh…" Nero pauses, squinting hard to read what it says. The lettering is there, plain and clear, but most of the letters have some parts missing to them, leaving him to have to guess what the word is supposed to be by context clues. _Methods of…. Laying? No, slaying…. um… Mythology Feasts…._ a light bulb goes off in his head "Methods of Slaying Mythological Beasts."

"And the author?"

"Donatello Bondivinci." That part's a little easier to piece together, as it's listed on both the spine and front cover. 

"And you, Dante?"

"Beginnings of the Order." he flips the book over a few times. "Looks like it's by the same guy."

"What's the author of those books?" she questions. Nero looks to the two other books on the shelf, assuming that's what she means.

"One is by this Donatello guy, but the other is someone else. I can't read it." Picking up one of the books, he flips through it to confirm that it too is unreadable, as Trish remains quiet. As he's putting the book back up, he hears her voice again.

"I think we have a lead."

"How's that?" Dante questions as they both look to her, with Nero now noticing that she's squatting down, picking through the various books lying about.

"There's a good chunk of books here made by that same guy. I think he might have what we need to know."

"Well, unless you've mastered the art of necromancy, I don't think we'll be getting anything out of him." Dante chuckles.

"No no, I mean, he seems to of known a lot about the Order. I'll look up these other authors too, but I think there could be a chance that maybe he lived through when the Order collapsed."

"And…?" Trish looks up to Dante with irritation. 

"He, being a well-published author, would want to write a book about a complete summary of the Order, from beginning to end, since he clearly already knew so much about the Order before it disbanded." Glancing back and forth between them, Nero can see Dante is still confused, but he dares not verbalize this, though Trish seems to realize this as she grows more annoyed. "And," she emphasizes loudly as she stands up "he probably would've at least listed the location of the main headquarters, for historical purposes. Since it wouldn't be a secret anymore."

"That's only if he happened to of lived in that small period of time when the Order was still kicking and after it fell."

"It's all we got to go on." Trish crosses her arms.

"I guess there's nothing upstairs?"

"No, just a couple of wooden piles from some kind of furniture."

"Ah. It was a long shot anyways."

"I'm not going back to the library." Nero grumbles as he follows the two others up the stairs. He's just about reached his patience with this duck hunt - he's not a damn errand boy.

"Library? Oh no, we don't need a library for this. " Dante answers.

"She said we need to look up some authors?"

"Yeah, you don't need a library for that." Though confused, he doesn't question this, not wanting to appear as though he has less knowledge than they do.

"I can do it while you drive. It's gonna be daylight in a few hours, so we need to get the nightcrawler back soon." _She can do research while we're driving?_

"Sure, do you have signal out here? 'Cause I don't." _Signal? For what?_

"No, but I did right before the ferry. I've got an international plan." _An… international plan… for a signal?_ He keeps his questions inside as they exit the 'building', stepping back into the welcoming moonlight. 

\---------------------------------

"Donatello Bondivinci, here he is." Trish speaks up, intently staring down at her cell phone. Unknown to her or Dante, Nero has been watching her closely. Or, at least, they haven't acknowledged his intense gaze on the rectangle in her hands. Cell phones, as it turns out, have evolved past just making phone calls - a concept foreign to him. He, nor Master, has ever had a need to learn modern technology, and so therefore he never kept up with the new advances of humanity. He still hasn't entirely grasped the concept of modern phones, but what he does know from watching her is cell phones are tiny, compact books that hold vast amounts of knowledge within a small, handheld frame. He's not sure where all the information goes when not in use, but if you call upon it, it'll appear on the tiny book's cover. "Says he published over 15 different books in his lifetime, mostly on either the supernatural or on the Order… oh, also says he died in 1271."

"Bummer. Died about 400 years too soon."

"Yeah…" Trish says idly as she scrolls down on her phone, not satisfied with accepting this dead end "Maybe someone continued off his work."

\---------------------------------

"I've got us a name." 

"Oh?" speaks Dante.

"Went by the alias 'Marco,' but after a man named Angelo Cancio the Third died in 1682, his will revealed he published books under the name of Marco. Historians matched up the dates and whatnot and confirmed it."

"Cool, so why's he important?"

"Well, 'Marco' wrote a lot about the supernatural, some of his stuff wasn't always PG-13 and there were a lot of things he wrote about that would piss off the church, but none of that is really important. What's important is that he wrote a book titled 'The Legends of the Forefathers of Modern Humanity.' It was apparently his life's work, published post-mortem and not completely finished, but part of the book goes into detail on everything that helped humanity become what it is today. Including all the orders and organizations, both in the past and present of his time, that helped humans 'fight back against their ancient foes from the dawn of time.'" Given the change of tone, she must've read he last part verbatim from her phone. She looks up to Dante. "The Order of the Sword was no small thing, and he lived through when the Order fell, so he had to of written about them too?"

"Yeah, probably. But you said it was unfinished."

"Doesn't mean he didn't finish the part with the-" "-no, I mean if it's not finished we're not going to find it in any ole regular library. It'd probably be in the archives of one of those libraries that collects every single piece of writing, done or not done."

"Don't worry. I've got it." she smirks at him.

"Alright," he shrugs "if you say so. What's got you so interested all of a sudden?" Nero didn't partake, of course, but he was there to witness how much Dante struggled to convince Trish to come along. _Such an idiot - he gave her two of his jobs just to get her to come! He practically paid for her help! Then again… am I the idiot by doing this for free? No, I'll get my payment in the end…_

"The sooner this is over with, the sooner the mosquito will be out of the house."

"I have ears." Nero mutters from the backseat.

"And fangs," she retorts "fangs that tore into Dante's neck."

"If you hadn't of hit me-" "-well if you hadn't decided to eat Dan-" "Hey, I'm not gonna listen to this the whole ride home!" Dante hushes the both of them. Going against his urge to either knock him over the head or yell back for speaking to him in such a disrespectful manner, he remains quiet as he shoots the both of them daggers with his eyes from the backseat. 

_**Bear through this trial. Prove your loyalty to me once more.** _

_Yes, I will, Master…_

\---------------------------------

Coming to a halt near the entrance of the shop, Nero feels the vehicle jolt forwards as Dante it parks on the side of the road, as he's too cheap to build an actual carport. Staring apprehensively at the outside world, he watches how the deadly light glimmers off of the shop's window. Luckily, the car windows are tinted dark enough to protect his frail skin, though this didn't stop him from quietly flinching away whenever Dante would turn onto another road, causing the light seeping through to rotate to another spot near him. He's fairly protected in here for now, but it's too late. He can't leave.

Watching the other two get out without a word to him, having no need to be afraid of the light, he suddenly begins to feel the panic rising as he realizes his vulnerable position here. They can easily leave him here to fry. As the intensity of the sun deepens as the day goes on, the protection granted to him by the darkened windows will lessen. He will be helpless to do anything but watch as he's slowly cooked alive. As the possibilities of when and how quickly he'll die in here multiply in his mind, he frightfully jumps to the other side of the backseat as he hears the car door next to him open up without his permission, allowing the unfiltered light inside his sanctuary. He has nothing to fear, however, as he soon finds Dante has taken off his long coat to use as a shield, blocking the light from reaching inside.

"Here, take my coat and drape it over yourself." With Nero now safely on the other side of the backseat, away from where the light can hit him, Dante crumbles up his coat into a ball and tosses it to him. "It's leather, it should be safe."

"Should be?" Nero questions as he catches the leather ball.

"Better than sticking around in here and roasting like a chicken." Looking at the red material with a skeptical frown, he can smell the horrid stench of gun smoke and the blood of beasts soaking the whole garment. He can likely only smell it because his sense of smell is better than a human's, but still. _Disgusting._ Cloaking the coat over his head, careful to hide his exposed face and arms, he scoots himself to Dante. His large frame still stands in the way of most of the light reaching him, but Nero hesitates regardless as he slowly reaches one slightly shaky foot after the other out onto the ground outside. Finding his skin unsinged, he finds the confidence to push the rest of himself out, standing out in the bright sunlight for the first time in… well, ever. 

"C'mon Bambi, this way." Dante places a guiding hand on Nero's back, ushering him towards the safety of the shop. Reactively, he quickly lurches his back forward to remove the unwelcome touch from his being, though he's ignorant to the meaning behind this new nickname. He doesn't feel the hand return and assumes he backed off - a wise decision, as given the insecurity of his situation, he's liable to lash out if provoked. Even if it costs him his life. He's reluctant with each forward movement he takes, as each step means reintroducing that foot into the light. As they get closer, Dante opens one of the doors for him, allowing him in first since he's incapable of doing so himself without exposing his hand.

The moment he's inside, away from his only natural enemy, Nero immediately tosses Dante's coat back to him, glad to be rid of the foul clothing. Exhausted and anxious, he calmly escapes to the seclusion of what's, for now, his basement without so much as a glance at the two humans behind him. He acknowledges, to himself, that his ignoring them will be perceived as rudeness, but given his mental state even he knows he may say or do something that could ultimately undo all the effort he's been putting into this task if he doesn't leave right now.

"I hope you're right." Trish says melancholily as they both watch the immortal youngster retreat into the darkness, though only a smirk appears on Dante's face in response. 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of metal scaping against concrete piercing deeply into his eardrums, Nero's eyes shoot open as he's startled back into reality. Furrowing his eyebrows, he turns his head to look towards the base of the stairs, though he already knows who it is. He doesn't bother with getting out of bed or even sitting up. Not unless he actually has to. He patiently waits, listening to the thumps descending further down, until the face he expects appears at the bottom. They stare at one another for a moment in silence as Dante crosses his arms, leaning comfortably against the wall of the stairs. 

"You even sleep like a vampire." Rolling his eyes, Nero averts his gaze to the ceiling above him. He has no desire to amuse him right now, though, really, he never does. Shifting the position of his crossed ankles, he clasps his hands together more firmly as they lie on his chest. "Anyways, it's been three days and nobody's seen you. Just making sure you were still here and, you know, not dead." _Three days? Huh._ Time is a fickle thing for him. Between orders from Master, if there is nothing for him to do, he often goes into a hibernation-like state, sleeping until he's needed again. It helps pass the time. "Well, deader, I guess." He shuts his eyes firmly, hoping maybe he'll go away if he ignores him for long enough. "Do you not go to the bathroom at all?" Dante persists.

"Can I help you with something?" he says harshly as he looks back to him, his frown deepening. He needs to earn his favor, he knows this and desperately wants to, the sooner the better… but his desire for rest from him is too great.

"Is there nothing you do for fun?" Dante questions "Just eat, sleep, fight?" Nero cocks an eyebrow at him as he mentally questions the purpose of all these questions "Is there nothing you enjoy _at all_?"

"I enjoy silence." He appears to ponder this notion for a second before suddenly exiting the room, climbing back up the way he came. Finally rid of him, Nero looks back up to the ceiling before closing his eyes once more, relaxing back into the old mattress. It's not very long, though, before the sound of an unknown object coming down the stairs stirs him again, hitting each and every step with an exceedingly loud thud. Furious with the constant interruptions and noise, Nero throws himself up into a sitting position, swinging his legs off the side as he prepares to stand. 

"Sorry, it's a bit too bulky for me to carry." Dante apologizes as he enters Nero's vision, walking backwards, with the source of the noise becoming clear as he pulls a metal cart down to the bottom of the stairs.

"Why do you have a TV?" his rage, for now, is quelled by curiosity as he notices the vaguely familiar, very old, square object sitting atop the cart.

"Just a little experiment." Pulling the cart over towards his bed, he then pushes it up against the wall, pointing it's screen directly in front of Nero. Crossing his arms, he watches skeptically as Dante bends over behind the device, plugging it in, before walking over to the other side of the basement. He begins rummaging through the boxes, usually opening them only to quickly seal them back up after a brief observation of the contents. 

"Ah-ha! Here we are." he announces after couching down to look at another box, his back to Nero. Standing back up, he holds the entire box in his arms, lugging the whole thing over to the cart before setting it down haphazardly on the floor. Settling back into bed, he pulls his feet back onto the mattress as he rotates around to face the TV. He's uncertain of the situation, or what Dante has planned, but he can't exactly leave anyways. _I have to do this… I must do this…_ he repeats to himself in his head. Knowing he'll be able to return to the life he had before is his only comfort. It's the only thing keeping him going. "I'm gonna assume you're more of an action kinda guy… vampire," he corrects himself "am I right?"

"Uhh…. action, as in, movement?" He can hear Dante chuckling as he pulls out a slim, rectangular object from the box. Opening it, he extracts what Nero knows to be a CD, only to place the CD inside the machine that sits on top of the TV. As the screen flickers on, displaying a loading screen, Dante moves away from his line of sight, returning moments later with a chair.

As the movies begins and progresses, they sit together in pleasant, relative silence, minus the occasional question from Nero as he attempts to understand what's going on. Nearly reaching its end, he concludes the information being displayed is entertaining, but ultimately seems without purpose. _What is the importance of this? Is this information for the next mission?_

"I don't understand." Nero looks to Dante, who is sitting in his chair next to the bed, his feet propped up on the footboard "Is this secret alien agency supposed to help us find that book?"

"What? No, it's just a movie." he directs his attention to him, looking as though he may laugh "Have you really lived alongside humans all this time and never seen a movie?"

"I mean, I've seen humans watching movies or shows or… whatever they're called, but I've never really understood why they do it." he says as he looks back to the screen in time to see the giant bug be exploded from within itself, though he has no reaction to the gruesome scene.

"So.. you like to watch people then?"

"It's my job to make sure I know enough about humans to blend in."

"Your job as second-in-command, right?" he doesn't respond, prompting Dante to continue "Your kind must have a pretty complicated social structure, huh?"

"I'm not telling you anything else until I get some information in return." Nodding understandably, Dante looks to the screen as he folds his hands comfortably in his lap.

"There's a vampire pack about 32 miles south of here." Nero sharply looks over to him "I've been keeping an eye on them for years now. They don't really kill anyone, except for some rookie that accidentally drains too much blood every once in a while. Most of their recruits join voluntarily so they're not as big as yours, but they're on your border so they'd be pretty easy to wipe out and expand your territory."

"Do you have an address?"

"1267 Broadie Lane. That's the main nest, at least."

_**Good. Tell him.** _

"I've told you some about our hierarchy, about the scouts, the recruiter and whatnot, but there's a total of five levels. Like I've said before, at the top of the chain is Master, they're the one that leads the rest of the clan. The recruiter, created by Master, recruits new members and does whatever Master says. They usually lead the attacks. Below them are the elders, they were the ones that the recruiter turned first. They work with the recruiter and Master in planning and keeping the others in line. Then there's the workers. They do the rest, mostly grunt work and finding more sources of food, but nothing too important. At the bottom are new recruits, the scouts. They become workers if they're able to survive long enough."

"And you're the recruiter, yeah?" He can see Dante turn to look at him in his peripheral vision.

"I was."

"Huh." he grunts to himself "So what's this 'master' character do, if everyone else is running _his_ show?"

"None of my business."

"Just kinda seems like the recruiter and elders do all the work. Don't really even need a 'master'." Dante says idly, though this irritates Nero. 

"A pack without a master will die."

"Did your master tell you that?" Nero looks at him with a deep frown and squinted eyes, annoyed by the unspoken implication. "Okay, sorry," Dante wisely backs off, glancing back to the TV "didn't mean to offend you."

They sit in a much more tense silence until the movie ends some ten minutes later, as Nero does not wish to speak to him and he, if he has any brains, probably realizes he shouldn't continue to provoke him. Though, at the same time, he can't help but wonder why Dante isn't asking more questions. He knows he got exiled, and it was his fault, and he thinks Nero is staying around because he wants information on rival clans. But he knows nothing else. He may not even truly understand why Nero's exile was his fault. _Maybe he thinks I was lying? That maybe I wasn't exiled, that instead Master instructed me to say so, in order to extract information from an experienced hunter?_ as the credits roll, he looks over at Dante as he stands up _Or maybe he did believe me, and thinks I want to use the info I get from him to earn Master's favor, maybe be allowed back into the pack?_ he watches him turn off the TV screen _I guess that wouldn't be too far from the real truth. Only detail missing is the sacrifice of his life._ Though suspicious, he dares not question Dante on it, as in doing so he could potentially alert him to this obvious overlook if he indeed hasn't noticed it himself, therefore prompting him to ask him questions that may be difficult to convincingly lie about.

"I've gotta hit the hay. Not all of us can be creatures of the night." he says hoarsely as he stretches out his sore limbs "Feel free to look through the rest of the box. You might like some of them." Dante gestures vaguely to the box he put next to the TV before turning away. At first, Nero watches him saunter away, before turning his attention to the plain brown box.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Dante!" Nero calls as he exits the basement, closing the wooden door but not bothering with the secondary barrier. 

"In here." he replies from what Nero can tell to be the entry room. Rounding the corner as he leaves the kitchen, he can see Dante sitting in his usual chair, a thick book splayed out on the desk in front of him. Slouching over as he reads, he uses the palm of his hand to prop his head up. 

"I watched them all."

"The movies?" he turns to look at him in exasperation.

"Yeah."

"What? It's only been a week!" Dante says with a laugh "There were like 40 movies in there! What did you do, watch them all back-to-back?"

"Pretty much. Do you have more?"

"No, that's 'bout all I got." he looks back down at his book "Tell ya what though, you come with me on this job I'm about to leave for and I'll give you some money. You can buy your own movies then."

"What's the job?" Nero crosses his arms. As he grows hungrier with each passing day, he also grows more restless. Watching movies provided him with the mental break he desired, but he's still a predator without prey. He needs to hunt something - anything, really - to get his pent up energy out. Though he loathes aiding the human in his despicable business, he'll be helping himself more than anything. 

"Nothing too special, just werewolves." Nero groans as he rolls his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest. The rivalry between their species is ancient, stemming back to the dawn of their existence. Legendary enough to have made it into the common knowledge of humans, despite their general lack of knowledge of the supernatural world. Plays, shows, movies, and other forms of entertainment have been made depicting the hatred between them for centuries. Humans, it seems, find it fascinating. He finds their interest odd, given both vampires and werewolves are humanity's main apex predators. Their fighting first began due to a lack of prey, in fact. "I figured you’d say that." Dante chuckles softly "It's a good sized pack, I told them they could stay so long as they keep to themselves, but I've been getting calls about attacks lately. I'm wanted to drop by and talk to them, see what's up first before getting rid of them."

"Why do you let all these predators stay in your area? You know their locations, why not exterminate them?"

"It's all about balance." he begins, though he continues to stare down at his book "You can't just kill everything, you'll be creating more problems than you'll solve. Get rid of one large pack that has coexisted fairly peacefully with humans, and ten small packs will move in that may not be as tolerant. I just make sure what's already here doesn't make too much of a fuss. If they become a problem, or if there's a rogue, then I deal with them. It usually works out. They don't get killed and are kinda protected from being killed by other hunters, and my job is made easier." He looks at him with skeptical disbelief, staying silent long enough to prompt Dante to look up at him after several moments.

"You're weird." _A human, that doesn't want to kill everything that is not its own species? Preposterous._

"If it works, then it works." Dante smirks as he looks back down "And so far it's been working." Glancing down at the book he's reading, Nero watches as he turns to the next leathery page.

"What're you reading?" 

"Trish found that book we were talking about. It's not organized well so I'm just reading through, trying to find were the section on the Order of the Sword is."

"But you at least know that there's a section on it?"

"That's what Trish said the guy told her." Dante sighs as he shifts his eyes to the next page. He can't read them from this distance, but the words on the pages appear handwritten in faded ink. Closing the book, he rubs his tired eyes with one hand as he stands up. "Let's get this over with."

\---------------------------------

"Okay, what am I supposed to do?" Nero questions as they pass underneath the last streetlamp. So as to not announce their presence, Dante decided it would be best to walk to their destination. It's only a 20 minute walk to the outskirts of the city, after all. Plus, it's a perfect night for a stroll. The air is calm and cool, the skies clear and the stars becoming more visible as they stray further away from the light pollution of the city.

"You're good at climbing, right?" he looks over to Nero, who responds by holding up his hands, showcasing his pointed, long, talon-like fingernails "Good. I thought so. I need you to climb that tree right over there." as he speaks, he points over to a rather large tree just ahead of them "I don't know _exactly_ where their den is at, but I know it's nearby in this forest-y area. The alpha usually recognizes my scent and meets me after I pass that tree."

"And they won't smell me?"

"He will, but he usually doesn't care as long as you don't go past the tree. The important thing is that, if things go sour, he won't expect a vampire to be helping me. He's always been pretty relaxed so there probably won't be a problem, but I'd like back-up if there is."

"Understood." he confirms as they reach the base of the tree. As he places a hand on each side of the tree's trunk, Dante stands to the side, waiting for him before continuing on. Digging his nails into the textured bark, he raises one foot up, planting it firmly onto the side of the tree below the hand that's on that side. He goes to raise the other foot, but stops upon looking to his side. "Could you not?" he furrows his eyes at Dante, who is absentmindedly watching him.

"Huh? Oh." he realizes quickly, rotating so he'll be facing the direction he needs to go in anyways. Rolling his eyes, Nero looks up the tree as he begins scaling up it, occasionally grunting involuntarily as the straight, upwards climb forces him to use muscles he hasn't used in a while. "You up there?" Dante questions as Nero struggles against the onslaught of small limbs and leaves hitting him, having reached the top.

"Yeah-ugh!" he groans as a branch slaps his face as he makes his way through. Lowly, he growls in frustration with himself as he rubs his tender cheek, sitting on a large, outer limb with his legs hanging off. 

"Okay. How good is your sight and hearing?" 

"If I focus I can hear up to a mile away, sight is about two miles away."

"Keep your eyes and ears on me then." he begins to walk away as he speaks. Settling in a bit more, he tries to keep Dante within sight, watching as he walks further into the density of the forest. It's not very long, however, before the surrounding trees obscure his vision of him. After all, he is sitting up in the tree canopy. Closing his eyes, he leans his back against the tree trunk as he blocks out the sounds around him, focusing solely on the sound of Dante's boots crunching across the dead leaves. He listens to this for a while, noticing him slowing in his pace until ultimately stopping. 

"Hey! You out here?" Dante shouts, and Nero soon hears another, more subtle pair of boots steadily becoming louder. 

"Ah, it's just you, friend." the voice is deep and masculine, but nothing out-of-the norm for a human "I smell a vampire nearby, I thought he was you."

"I thought you killed any vampires that get too close to here. You getting soft in your old age?" 

"No softer than yourself." he retorts as the sound of his steps cease "I'm not quite up to a tussle today, unfortunately." 

"I can see that." Dante says with a tone of surprise.

"I was going to ask if you've been having as many problems with them as us, but the answer to that is as plain as the bite on your neck."

"Yeah," Nero hears the shuffling of his clothes, indicating he's moving in some way, as Dante laughs shortly "there's a new pack that's moved in on the other side of town." _...Are they talking about my pack?_

"Yes, I've seen the nest myself. Are you one of them now?" his tone is serious.

"No, they're a different species. I'm not here to chat, though." he hears Dante sigh heavily as he shuffles some more "I've been hearing your pack has been causing some trouble."

"Ah…. yes, not by my orders, but we're getting desperate. Some have taken it upon themselves to sort the matter out themselves. I've been trying to keep them in line, but it's difficult when our supply of food is running short."

"How's that?"

"They've been raiding our den lately, stealing our supplies."

"That doesn't make sense." Dante sounds genuinely bewildered.

"No, it doesn't. I believe they're attempting to starve us out, robbing us of our alternative source of food, forcing us to either move or start preying on humans again. I assume, then, that they now know you're here, otherwise it'd make no sense that they'd want to be competing with us for their only source of food."

"Damn. That's smart." he sounds impressed "It's a win-win situation for them no matter what. Either I come and wipe out your pack for killing humans and they can gain more territory, or you wipe me out and one of their biggest threats is gone."

"Indeed. I assume we're not the only species being affected by them. "

"No, just about everything in the area is struggling."

"My allies to the east say they came from there. They don't just expand, they conquer. Tell me, are you going to do something about this?" There's a few moments of quiet before Dante exhales.

"Keep your pack in line. Start taking cattle if you have to. I don't want to get any more calls about mangled corpses with claw marks, got it?"

"I respect you, Dante, but understand that a hungry werewolf is not one that can be reasoned with. I'll do my best, but the last full moon nearly pushed us to the brink." the alpha allows a few moments to pass before continuing "You have a month until the next full moon to have this sorted out. After that, well…" he sighs "It's been a pleasure. Either you will kill us or we will kill you. Not by choice, but simply because we will have succumbed to the ache in our bellies."

"I understand." he says solemnly. 

As Nero opens his eyes, getting ready to exit the treetops, inhumanly large, furred hands wrap firmly around his dangling left ankle. Sharply inhaling as he looks down, he's pulled down to ground, being harshly slammed into the dirt before he has the chance to save himself. Groaning as he tries to prop his body up, stunned from the hard impact, he grips at the side of his bruised ribcage. Looking through squinted eyes, he sees the huge, shit-brown furred beast standing over him, arms held out from his body to give the illusion of having an even bigger frame as it howls menacingly to the moon, it's head thrown back and ears pinned. _Keep calm… fighting would not be wise right now. Dante is nearby, he will come._ Finished with its midnight chorus, it looks down at Nero with blackened eyes, growling deeply as it places one foot over his entire stomach. As he increases the pressure to his fragile internal organs, he winces, teeth barred and gritted as he tries to endure the pain. He can hear both sets of feet running towards him, the sound of their steps getting louder with each passing moment. _It's… it's too much._ Feeling his lowermost rib snap as the pressure from the large toe-claw digs deeper into his body, his mental state snaps as instinct takes over. 

Digging his razor-like teeth into the werewolf's calf, he clamps and swivels his lower jaw side to side as his fingernails scratch deeply at its leg, trying to inflict as much damage as possible while it's still in his grip. Crying out in pain, the wolf removes its leg from him as it stumbles backwards, though this distraction is only momentary. Regardless, Nero doesn't waste the chance, quickly standing to his feet in a slouching, knees-bent defensive posture. He won't win in hand-to-hand combat with a werewolf, their brute strength far exceeds that of a vampire's. But he can outmaneuver them, dancing around the raging animal as he takes advantage of any weak points. It's attention focused sharply on him again, snarling as drool falls freely from his gaping mouth, he makes to lunge at the vampire. Preparing to roll to the side, he finds his body being held firmly in place by something behind him, preventing him from dodging the beast hurtling towards him. 

There's no need for escape though, as the werewolf's path is blocked by a second, black-furred Lycan standing even larger than the first. He watches as they ensue in a verbal competition for dominance, roaring and growling at one another as the darker werewolf stands in the other's way to reaching Nero. The larger one wins out in the end, as evident by the brown one lowering his stance and head down submissively until it can no longer be seen, as his sight of it has become obscured by the black werewolf towering over it. They stay in silence like this for a few moments before the black fur begins to retreat on the werewolf's body, receding to its head as the rest of its body compresses in size, snapping and cracking with each bone rearranging as its naked, pink skin begins to show through the thinning hair. 

Looking back over his shoulder, Nero takes this opportunity of temporary peace to see what exactly is holding him back, only to see a familiar blue-eyed face hovering near his own behind him. Grunting out a sigh as he looks back towards the two werewolves, he notices the previously overlooked detail of his arms having been pinned to his side, as Dante's arms are wrapped firmly around his abdomen, effectively immobilizing him. Bold of Dante to place himself so close while he's in fight-or-flight mode - Nero could've easily unintentionally directed his aggression to whatever holds him away from his real target. 

"But he's a vampire!" 

"If I tell you to stop, that means stop!" the nude black-haired man yells at him, his voice being one that Nero recognizes to be the person Dante was conversing with before. 

"I'm sorry... I meant no disrespect…"

"Go back to the den. Clean yourself up before that wound gets infected." Nero can see the brown-haired man nod as he directs his eyes down to the ground. As the alpha turns around, his back facing the other werewolf, Nero sees the lesser wolf glare up at him. His expression previously neutral, he returns the half-man's intense stare, daring him to do something about it.

"Watch yourself, blood-sucker." he warns, to which the alpha sharply looks back to his counterpart, prompting him to make a quick, limping retreat into the forest. 

"Big talk from the least intimidating nude man I've ever laid eyes on." Nero shouts to him, receiving an understandable light smack to the head from his captor in response. Watching for just long enough to ensure he won't be coming back, the alpha slowly turns back to them, his eyes firmly trained on Nero but otherwise tolerating his outburst.

"Your red-eyed friend is from that pack." he announces the obvious "Are you aware of that?" he sternly questions as his gaze shifts to Dante.

"I am." he admits as he releases Nero, who decides the best course of action here is to step to the side and backwards, placing himself slightly behind Dante. This position signifies tolerance more than submission - by allowing Dante to take the lead, he shows he has no intention of attacking, but will if need be.

"And you brought him here, onto my land?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"He wasn't going to do anything, he was just-" "- _why is he here?_ "

"I, uh…" Dante glances back at Nero "I caught him not too long ago, we have a sort-of deal going on."

"What kind of 'sort-of' deal?"

"None of your concern." he says bluntly, but not sharply "Just know he was waiting on me. Nothing more, nothing less. You've got your own problems to deal with without worrying about mine."

"I will worry, Dante." the alpha looks to Nero as the demon's vampiric features slowly change back into a normal human's, his adrenaline lessening "That _boy_ could mean the end of my pack. Keep him out of my forest. I will not turn a blind eye to this again." he gives a final stare at Nero before turning his back to the both of them, disappearing back into the obscurity of the trees.

"Well," Dante huffs out after a moment of silence "that could've been a lot worse." he turns to look at Nero, who is already glaring at the older human. _If only looks could kill_. "What? They could've killed you, you know."

"Not if it was just two of them."

"Ah, you vampires." he shakes his head in disbelief as he turns around, heading back in the direction they came from with the younger soon following after "Always trying to bite off more than you can chew."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you done stuffing your face?" Nero questions with disgust, his nose crinkled as he watches the pig-in-red devour his fifth slice practically whole. 

"You're just jealous cause you can only eat blood." he mutters through a mouth full of food.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to talk with your mouth full?" he looks away from him, too grossed out to continue to watch him.

"She also told me not to invite a vampire into the house, but, y'know." Nero glances over to see him smirking "I'm a rule breaker." Seeing Dante reach for yet another slice, he quickly pushes it to the other side of his desk, out of reach.

"Save some for Trish, you know she'll get mad if you don't save some for her."

"Good advice." Dante pulls his hand back as he leans back into his chair, propping his feet up onto the corner of his desk. Standing up from his spot on the other corner of his desk, Nero moves to the shopping bag he left beside the front door earlier. "Whatcha got there?" 

"Movies." Given the movie store closes soon after it gets dark, he hadn't waited too long after waking up this evening before heading that way. 

"Why didn't you just rent some movies? There's a movie vending machine just outside the corner store that's open 24/7."

"I… didn't know that was an option." he sheepishly admits as he rummages through the plastic bag, hearing Dante snicker from behind as something moves across the desk. Standing up straight, he holds three DVD cases in his hands - the movies he's decided he wants to see before the others. _But which one should I watch first…_ As he tries to solve this serious dilemma, he walks back over to Dante's desk, perching himself back onto the corner he had before. After some time of deliberating to himself, listing off both the pros and cons of each movie, he finally decides on one that tells a story about alien robots disguised as human vehicles. Setting the two other DVD to his side on the desk as he holds the winner in his malformed hand, he glances over to notice Dante reading again. "Find anything yet?" he questions as he looks back to the DVD case in his hand, running over the summary on the back one more time.

"Oh, uh… yeah." he sounds… somber? An odd tone for someone as chipper as him. Turning his head to look at him, he curiously watches as Dante anxiously fiddles with the corner of the page he's reading, likely without him realizing he's doing so. Slowly, he looks up at him, a barely noticeable frown to his otherwise neutral expression. His eyes are the most telling - they seem sad, looking at him with pity. He seems to snap out of his haze quickly, inhaling deeply while blinking heavily as he looks back down at the book, though Nero notices his momentary glance at his deformed arm. "Yeah I started reading again after we got home yesterday." his tone of voice returning to its normal level of irritating. He would question the sudden back-and-forth change in emotion, but who's he kidding? He doesn't care if Dante's upset or not.

"Did you find anything?" 

"Yup. Found out where their headquarters was at." Dante smirks smugly.

"That wasn't too difficult. Where's it at?" he asks as nonchalantly as possible - though, in reality, he very much wants to hear his response for once.

"Not sure."

"You said-" "I mean, it lists a location, but I've never heard of the place." 

"Well, what's it called?" his tone having a slight edge to it from being rudely interrupted.

"Fortuna Island."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw I've been enjoying reading y'alls comments~ <3 This one felt a bit... rushed? Idk, I didn't want to add unnecessary fluff or extra details that don't need to be there, it's repetitive and boring to write so I found myself just skipping the filler scenes altogether.


	5. Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually had this chapter written up about two weeks ago, but kept mulling over wording and stuff, then got to procrastinating... then I just said screw it, I think it's fine, and my whole purpose of this fic was to just have fun with it anyways. But, at least I figured out the rest of the plot in those two weeks, so that's something, right?

Holding the rolled up parchment papers under his armpit, he uses his free arm to pull the hood of the coat Dante lent him over his head before snuggly placing his hands in its protective pockets. He may not produce body heat, but the cold chill from the night wind still stings his exposed skin. _Damn cold fronts…_

The lower temperatures don't seem to be affecting the activity of humans, however. If anything, they're even easier to hunt right now. Scurrying about from place to place, in search of a warm hole to crawl into while they mingle with others of their species. Often, they don't pay much attention to their surroundings on nights like this, their vision partially blocked by hoods and coats protecting their pink faces as they daydream of warmer times. Meanwhile, all he can dream of is tasting the nutritious, iron-rich liquid pumping throughout their bodies once again. A painful reminder of his hunger, his own ears taunt him by focusing in on the thumping rhythm of the heart of each human he passes by as his starved stomach churns, yearning for food. He can't go on like this. His act of desperation with Dante bought him some time, but it won't last forever. It could be next week, or maybe even a few weeks from now, if he's lucky, but something's gotta give eventually.

A healthy, well-fed vampire of his kind should consume approximately eight pints of blood every month - or one adult human - depending on his or her level of activity. He's only had about six pints in almost two months. Spaced out well enough to where his mind and body has stayed intact and human-like, but this only delays the inevitable. Though not on the brink of bloodlust yet, he can feel he's beginning to lose control over his own body. Soon, as more time passes from when he had his last "snack", his human physicalities will deteriorate to show the devil within, marking the beginning of the end if he's not allowed feed by that point.

For now, his main concern is finding out where this supposed island is. He still has a mission to complete, hungry or not. Perhaps the man's short attention span finally won out, or maybe he just wants to see him descend further into madness, but either way, Dante has been little to no help in the matter. A brief look-over of a world map is all the help he's offered so far - which, of course, came up with nothing. That was two days ago. With Nero running on borrowed time, he cannot continue to sit back and let the lazy man do the brunt of the work anymore. Not with how slowly he's been progressing as of late. 

Climbing up the few steps to the entrance of Devil May Cry, he's too lost in his own thoughts to be paying attention, allowing his muscle memory to guide him inside as he's done dozens of times by now. Head pointed down to the ground, he's roused out of the seclusion of his mind when he grabs the doorknob, finding the surface to be soft and fluffy rather than cold and hard. Looking up, he realizes a sock has been left on it. It seems to have been purposefully left there, as the hole of the sock neatly covers the entirety of the knob. Cocking an eyebrow, he removes the sock as he tries to determine its meaning. It doesn't take him long to figure it out, though, as he remembers seeing similar setups in the past, some on the doorknobs of houses with curtains not drawn. Rolling his eyes, he tosses the cloth piece to the pavement below. _I don't have time for this bullshit._

Opening the door, he keeps his eyes trained solely on Dante's desk as he walks across the room, though he doesn't make it past the entryway before being spotted.

"Hey- kid, what're you doing here?" Dante gruffly speaks in surprise after the sound of grossly wet kissing and rustling fabric ceases with the sound of a loud suck. 

"I need this room. You have a bedroom, take your hooker up there." he says venomously as he reaches his desk, having successfully ignored looking at either one of them. Removing the parchments from under his arm, he lays them out on the desk. 

" _Hooker_?" the woman shrilly yells as Nero rolls out one of the papers calmly "Did you tell him I'm a hooker?!"

"What? No, of course not!" he defends himself, though he apparently isn't convincing, as Nero hears the sound of her slapping him immediately after. 

"Fuck you, Dante!" she screams as he hears the sound of her standing up, the sound of her bare feet frantically dashing around the immediate area, presumably gathering her clothes. 

"I swear I didn't-" she slams the door before he has the chance to finish, in more ways than one. 

Leaning on the palm of his hands, preventing the parchment from rolling back onto itself, he looks over the paper's contents. A map of the world, you see, but this isn't just any ordinary map. Realizing some moments later that Dante suspiciously hasn't spoken again, he glances over his shoulder to the couch behind him. Sitting down, with his gloved hands on the cushions as he slightly leans forward, Dante is looking at him with half-lidded eyes, a eyebrows raised and his expression deadpan.

"You couldn't wait ten more minutes, huh?"

"You won't let me eat. It's only fair I return the favor." he turns his attention back to the map.

"Tssh," Nero hears him stand up "that's not exactly what I'd call fair, I said you could have my blood." as he closely examines the map, looking closely at each individual island across each continent, he can hear Dante's clothed feet coming towards him "Whatcha got there?"

"A map." he replies as Dante enters his peripheral vision "An older map, from the 1700s. It's the oldest one I could find at the library. I'm hoping it'll have the older names of the islands around the world." glancing over to him just in time to see him zipping his pants, he looks away quickly with an eyeroll and a disgusted groan "Put a shirt on, will you?"

"Nah." he dismisses as he buckles his belt as he walks around to the other side of the desk, leaning on the opposite side of the desk afterwards "You owe me sex, by the way." Slowly, Nero looks up at him, an eyebrow cocked questionably as he sees the confused look on his face, eyes squinting as he looks to the side, reevaluating in his head his bad choice of words. "I mean, you owe me the chance to have sex." he raises his eyebrow further up "No, no… I meant you owe me the chance to have sex with a woman." he shakes his head affirmatively with a smirk. Closing his eyes, exhaling deeply to keep his composure, Nero then looks back down to the map. 

"I'm thinking it had to of been an island off of Italy."

"Why?" Grabbing out a folded piece of paper from his coat pocket, he hands it to Dante as he looks up at him.

"Fortuna." he puts his hand back down while Dante unfolds the paper, looking it over in his hands "The only information I could find is that Fortuna is the name of the Goddess of luck and fortune in the Roman religion. The Greeks had their own version of her, but under a different name." he sees Dante look up to him "Given the name comes from Roman mythology, I would assume, then, that a place called Fortuna Island would be an island next to, or at least near, Italy."

"Look at you! All grown up and reading books by yourself."

"Someone has to be useful around here." Squinting, as if that'll make reading the small text easier to read, he looks along the coastline of what's now Italy.

"What, a guy can't take a day off work without gettin' hassled for it?" 

"This is your third day off. I don't have enough time to wait for you."

"Just cause you haven't eaten recently?" he chuckles "So dramatic. You're not going to starve." Nero looks up at him, gravely glaring at him emotionlessly.

"Look at the edges of my irises." he demands, and Dante obliges as he meets his gaze "Do you not see the faint tinge of red?" he asks while the hunter remains silent "This is not a game. Not for me, at least. I know you're not the smartest human ever, but surely you must know how dangerous a bloodlust vampire is. You can't reason with them. You can't contain them. And you damn sure can't stop them without killing them. They only stop when they've eaten enough, sometimes mowing down whole cities in the process. So, maybe you're looking forward to hunting me when I reach that stage. Maybe that's been your goal the whole time. I wouldn't blame you if it is." _After all, I plan on hunting him after this is over with…_ "But I'm not going to sit back as my mind slowly erodes away, just to end up killed. So if you're going to kill me, save us both some time and do it now, because I can't do this without your help and you know it." It's quite ironic, actually. Unknown to Dante, by helping him, he'll be helping to lead himself to his own death. 

"I don't want to kill you."

"Then help me out." For a few moments, they maintain strained eye contact as they both attempt to figure out the other, before Dante sighs loudly as he looks down at the map.

"You're not going to find it on a map."

"Why's that?" he too looks down, his eyes continuing down the coast.

"Too obvious. A group like that doesn't get as big as it did by having their name on a map." Though, it doesn't take long for Nero to confirm that for himself. "Look at the islands without names instead." he points to seven different unmarked, decently-sized islands as he speaks, a few are close together but three are on the opposite corners of the country "Start with them. Hopefully they settled on an island big enough to show up on a map, if not then we'll probably have to scour the entire coastline of Italy." Looking up, Nero watches him stand up straight and walk around the desk, towards the couch.

"There's not enough time for that." he turns his head to look behind himself, watching him as he grabs up the shirt Dante carelessly tossed behind the couch.

"No, there isn't." Dante confirms as he bends over "So either we better hope it's on the map or you gotta drink some of my blood."

"Ugh." he groans as he turns his body around to face him, leaning up against the desk with his arms crossing his chest, face crinkling with displeasure.

"Didn't seem to mind that much the other day." he smirks at him as he fiddles with his shirt.

"I didn't realize it was you, I just saw a throat." Nero idly watches as he reclothes himself, though it doesn't take long before he's noticed.

"You see something you like?"

"Just wondering how someone as lazy with as bad of a diet as yourself can still be that muscular." 

"Oh-ho! So you admit you were checking me out, eh?" he teases with a grin as he grabs up his coat off of the back of the couch.

"In the same way a human eyes up a well-fed cow, yes."

"I'm still gonna take that as a compliment." 

"Take it however you want, it makes no difference to me."

"That's funny, I said the same thing not 30 minutes ago." his self-satisfied smirk deepens as he glances over at him.

"And your kind says we're repulsive." Nero mutters, quick to move to another topic "What's the plan here?"

"I'm gonna go to a museum I know of in the morning, see if they've got maps older than that one. May get lucky and find a bigger map that shows more detail too." walking over to the coat rack next to his desk, he hangs up his trusty red material "Nothin' we can do until the morning though, so I'm gonna get some shuteye."

"I'm coming with you." 

"To bed or to the museum?" he briefly glances over to him with a mischievous expression before walking towards the stairs leading up to the bedrooms.

"Museum." Nero remains dead panned, unamused by his attempts at joking.

"Wake me at 8 then, we'll need an early start."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"It's 8 in the Goddamn morning, _what do you want_?" Dante mumbles out, with one eye just barely open enough to spot the clock sitting on his nightstand as the rest of his face smushes into the pillow.

"You said to wake you at 8?" Nero questions, raising his eyebrow as he watches Dante try to squirm into a comfortable position under the sheets.

"Yeah, but I didn't mean…" he pauses, only to roll over onto his side moments later, facing away from the vampire as he apparently gives up on coming up with some bullshit excuse.

"C'mon, get up." he crosses his arms "Dante." Nero says more sternly, but with calm " _I said get up!_ " his shouts startle Dante awake, who reluctantly rolls onto his back as he rubs his face with both hands. Looking up to him with squinting eyes soon after, he looks as though he's questioning whether or not he should grab the pistol off his nightstand and end Nero right then and there, thereby letting him go back to sleep. He seems to decide against this as he makes to stand up off the bed, however. He appears to of gone to bed wearing his normal day clothes, likely knowing he wouldn't want to get dressed waking up this early.

"Fine, fine. I'm up." his voice cracking, he clears his throat as he stands while Nero backs up a few paces. 

"Good. We only have a few hours before I have to be back."

"Oh, we're probably not coming back."

"What? But I can't-" "-the museum is huge and doesn’t have windows. You'll be fine. We'll probably be done before dark but it'll be risky trying to get you back here. Best to just stay there until nightfall."

"So, what, we just sit around twittling our thumbs until it gets dark?" Nero asks irritably as Dante walks around him.

"Keep your panties on, we'll come up with a game plan in the meantime."

\---------------------------------

"I'm not sure about this." Nero admits, nervously glancing at the crowd of families trickling through the museum entrance, screaming children following behind tired adults up the small set of stairs. It's the weekend, after all, and every parent is desperate to keep their devil spawn entertained, if only for a few hours. 

"Aw, you get anxious in crowds?" Dante teases as he locks his car.

"Only when there's so many heart beats in my ears." Nero pauses as his eyes bounce from person to person "So much, so close to me…" he mumbles soon after, his vision becoming out of focus, before receiving a firm smack to the back of his head "What the hell was that for?!" he glares at his attacker as Dant  
e innocently walks past, rubbing the now-sore spot on his head.

"Don't want ya going crazy on me." Dante replies simply as he continues on, with Nero soon following behind him, glaring at his back "Follow my lead. And try to not act too suspicious."

"I know how to blend in." Nero grabs the door before it can close on him, passively holding it open for the person behind him to grab as he passes through the entryway. Walking past the large group of people standing in the way around the entrance, Dante stops abruptly as he scopes out the area, apparently looking for something. He does this for long enough for Nero to lose interest, glancing around the building as he places his hands in his pockets. By the time he looks back to him, he realizes Dante is already walking away. Not wanting to get lost in a sea of humans, he quickly catches up to him as Dante stops in front of an older man wearing a navy uniform. Presumably, an employee of the museum.

"Hey, does the museum have any old world maps somewhere in here?" Dante questions, though the elderly man only squints hard at him, ignoring his question. Suddenly, his eyes go wide as a smile forms on his face.

"Oh! It's you, Dante. I've heard many great things about you! You know, some of the artifacts we have in here are because of your work, son." he pauses briefly, but speaks again before Dante can interject "Who's your friend here?" he looks over to Nero with subtle skepticism. 

"Hello sir, my name is Dr. Stevens." he extends a hand to him as he smiles warmly at him, his voice chipper.

"Francis Cormorant." the man graciously shakes his hand with a smile of his own, reassured the vampire's not a suspicious individual.

"Pleasure to meet you." Nero maintains his smile as he places his hand back in his pants pocket "I'm an employee in the cartography department at the Museum of History in London, England. We're looking to expand our documents. We were told this museum may be of help?"

"Ah, yes! Come along, I'll take you to our vaults. Right this way." the man turns his back to them as he leads them down a hall. Following behind, Nero happens to glance at Dante, who's looking at him incredulously.

"What?" he whispers, his voice returning to monotone. 

"You should be an actor." he chuckles quietly "Why aren't you that nice to me?"

"I don't want anything from you, that's why." Nero mutters as he looks ahead of himself, watching the back of the elderly man as he leads them into an elevator.

"Doctor, you say?" the man smiles at him as he turns around to face them in the elevator "You look rather young to have a doctorate." he says as the other two enter.

"Oh yeah, he may look young, but trust me, his mind is older than the two of us combined." Dante laughs as though this is a joke rather than reality. For the sake of not breaking character, Nero chuckles playfully as well.

"Ah, don't mind him." he says casually with a cheerful tone as he feels the elevator begin to descend "I'm actually 27, graduated last year. I just started this job a month ago."

"What's he here for then, eh?" he thumbs over to Dante as he turns his attention to the man, immediately skipping over his own question "You already taken care of that Banshee that was keeping half the town awake at night? Not that I'd know, damn near deaf in both ears these days…"

 _And blind, it seems._ His skin is nearly as white as his hair with eyes still baby blue, though there's a suspicious tint within them, while fingers along with nails that never look quite completely human anyways are now beyond his control as they remain extended and sharp. He's not exactly inconspicuous right now. 

"Oh yeah, took care of her months ago." he grins as he looks down at him "Don't think she was actually a Banshee though, if she was then she was pretty far from home."

"Ah! Months ago? Time sure does fly." he muses as the elevator doors open, revealing a hallway not nearly as clean or pretty as the open-to-the-public area a floor above "What about the werewolves? Boy, those are some nasty creatures." at this point, he's mostly talking to himself as he leads them down the maze of hallways "And I mean that literally. Leaving their musk and fur all over the place. You have any idea how much fur a full grown werewolf sheds? Always scaring off my cats too…" occasionally, one or the other will nod politely or hum a 'mhm' "Nothin' beats those damn vampires though. I hear there's been some people go suspiciously missing. Ah, I'm sure you've got a handle on it." he laughs heartily as he briefly glances back at Dante "This guy here is the best in the biz. There's not a vampire out there that he can't kill." 

"Uh huh." 

"Yup. This city would be overrun with them if it weren't for him. Lucky we have him, huh?"

"Oh, yes. Definitely." he sharply looks at the hunter while he, having looked away to observe their surroundings, remains blissfully unaware "Very lucky."

"Well anyways, here's the room you're looking for." the kindly old man stops in front of a red wooden door that looks no different than the other hundred they passed on their way here, jiggling his large keyring as he speaks again "We got all kinds of maps in here. Danish maps, American maps, maps of mountain ranges, maps of bodies of water around the world, maps from the 1200s, maps from last year…" 

Finding the key he needs, he twists doorknob until it ominously creaks open with a metal click "Everything you need should be here. Just let me know when you're done so I can lock back up. I'll send off to make copies of the maps you need, okay?" turning to Nero, he shares a smile with him as he gently pats the young non-human's shoulder "You've got a good head on your shoulders, young man. Keep yourself out of trouble, alright? You've got a bright future ahead of you."

 _If only he knew…_ Nero only nods to the man, a deceivingly innocent smile plastered on his face like a well-formed mask, before watching him turn away, leaving them to their own devices.

"He's a nice guy." Dante speaks while watching him walk off.

"Let's just get this over with." Nero's expression returns to neutral as he turns his attention to the room ahead.

"You would really kill someone like that?"

"No." he walks inside.

"Oh?"

"The blood of elderly isn't very good. It tastes like lint." he says matter-of-factly "And you seem to operate under the assumption I kill every human in sight. I feed and I turn. That's about it."

"Turning someone **is** killing them, you know, and you said yourself not everyone lives through the process." Nero scoffs at this as he rolls his eyes, opting to otherwise ignore him as he heads to the metal cabinets, presumably where the maps are being stored. He doesn't have to justify himself or his actions to someone like _him_.

\---------------------------------

"Alright, it's been…five hours." Nero looks up in time to see Dante look way from the clock hanging on the nearby wall, towards him "If I look at one more map, I may just burn this whole place with us still in it."

"You didn’t spend five hours in this room. You left after a half hour to go get a drink of water, came back 45 minutes later, then left again an hour after that to grab lunch. Which took you almost two hours."

"Yeah, but…" Dante sheepishly admits guilt "I've been in this _building_ for five hours." Nero looks over at him, an eyebrow raised "Well, okay, I've been near here for five hours..."

"Anyways," he rolls his eyes "we've got probably all we can get." Nero says as he looks down at the large table in front of him, completely covered in maps of varying age, size, detail, design, and so forth "I've narrowed it down to two unnamed islands. One is here," he points to the map, one made not too long ago, lying on top of all the others as he hears Dante's footsteps approach from behind, pausing before speaking again to make sure he got the chance to see "and the other is here." feeling Dante's presence over his shoulder, he moves his finger to the opposite side of the country "They're about 400 kilometers away, so it'll take about three or four hours to get between sites."

"How far off the mainland?"

"The one in the Mediterranean is an hour, the other in the Tyrrhenian is thirty minutes."

"What about these two?" Dante points to two more unlabeled islands.

"They're not labeled here, but these two maps have their names." shuffling through the pile of maps below the one on top, he procures two smaller maps, handing them off to Dante before turning his attention back to the large map "It's a day's drive over, if we drive through Bradenburg to Saxony, then Habsburg, cut through Bavaria and then back into Habsburg. That'll give us a direct path into Venice, which should be a straight shot to…" Nero glances over to his side to see Dante staring at him, completely bewildered with wide eyes.

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." he states the obvious. Furrowing his eyebrows, he looks back down.

"I meant, uh…" he examines the map for a minute, before Dante traces a finger across it, mapping out the route they need to take.

"You mean go through these countries?"

"Yeah…" he mumbles slowly, eyes darting across the paper in confusion. _Those names aren't even on this map…_

"It'd be faster if we just flew."

"Flew? In… an airplane?" Nero looks over to him, slight concern on his face. As Dante meets his gaze, a smirk slowly creeps up as he realizes.

"You've never flown, have you?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Don't touch me." Nero aggressively smacks Dante's hand off his shoulder as they exit the aircraft's stairwell, sulking ahead of both he and the busty blonde. 

"Temper, temper, kid." he teases dangerously. 

"I'm not doing that again." Eyebrows creasing together as his frown etches deeply on his face, the unease from the flight still controlling his mind and muscles into tensing. 

"Ah, it wasn't so bad." Nero's not up for a debate - he was stating a fact. There was not a single moment of that experience that was tolerable - not the stomach churning take off that seemed to of been straight up into the air or the turbulence-filled flight itself in a flying metal death box, and _especially_ not the free-fall that plummeted them back to the ground in a supposed "safe" manner. _I'll WALK back before I do that again!_

"Is that one ours?" He skips the argument - the twinge in his abdomen is growing ever stronger, fighting will do him more harm than good right now - as he points a skinny, long finger to a shiny red car ahead of them on the side of the road. There's a whole line of cars, actually, they're all rentals for the airport's passengers, but he knows the man well enough to know the flashiest, most obnoxious vehicle is the most likely candidate for Dante to of reserved for them.

"Yup." _Of course._

Entering into the backseat, he's stopped just short of sitting by Dante's voice.

"Hey! Where're you goin'?" Thinking for a split second he's referring to him, Nero freezes as he looks up at him, realizing soon after he's actually not speaking to him at all. 

"I got my own car." Peeking through the back windshield, he sees Trish as she sits in the driver seat of the sleek, black car parked behind them. 

"Why? Now we gotta pay for two cars!"

"I'll pay for this one. It's less painful than being in an enclosed space with you two." As she starts the car, whether intentionally or by accident, she temporarily blinds Nero by turning on the headlights, illuminating the otherwise dark street. Wincing as he ducks down away from the light, he hears the soles of Dante's boots walking away as he talks.

"Now wait a minute, hold on.. what're we gonna.." his voice fading, Nero opts to not continue to listen, instead deciding to turn forwards-facing in his seat and leave them to sort out their own issues. Looking through the window to his side, he can see a shadow in the far-off distance shifting suspiciously. Masters of hiding with the darkness, it's no doubt a vampire he's seeing. Stalking airports for fresh blood is a good strategy - _if_ they can remain out of the detection of humans and their security lights. But, with any place that provides ample prey, there's also a lot of predators, each one fiercely competing with the other for control of the area. 

Knocking his knuckles against the back windshield, he signals for Dante to hurry up. He can likely still take on a single vampire without too much trouble, not to mention he's in the company of two hunters, but he'd rather avoid the risks associated with seeing blood spilt. It knows he's in their territory, it can feel his presence just as well as he can, and a vampire has little patience for intruders. Knocking with more vigor, the whole car shakes as Dante soon plops himself down behind the wheel.

"Okay okay, I got it. We're going." he pulls out of the area in time for Nero to see a faint glimmer of a twin set of red dots "She's gonna go to the one in the Tyrrhenian sea, we're going to the one in the Mediterranean."

"The Tyrrhenian is closer to here." 

"Exactly. So if it's a dud, she can ditch the island and meet us over at the other one, but if that's the place we're looking for then we'll just turn around and head back. We're trying to cover as much ground as possible, we only got, what, 12 hours to get to both islands?"

"What if they're both duds?" he looks over to him, the headlights from Trish lighting the man's side profile. 

"We'll… deal with that if the time comes." he says, unsuccessful in hiding the gloom in his tone. 

_He plans to kill me._

_**Yes.** _

_What should I do, Master? I can't escape an attack, not in this state…_

_**Come back with him alive, or don't come back at all.** _

_But how?_ No response. _Master, if he has decided to be rid of me if neither island proves useful, surely he's not dense enough to bring me back before killing me?_ Again - nothing. _Fine._ He'll win this battle himself, without guidance. If this is what it takes to prove himself worthy of Master's approval once more. Idly turning his head to look back out of the car door's window, he watches as the lights from both the cars illuminate their surroundings for a faction of a second before hurriedly passing by. The headlights of Trish's car soon exits to the right, parting ways with them both as she heads down the road alone.

\---------------------------

_…once on the main land, I need to find food - fast. Doesn't matter what, so long as it's human and alive… Try not to kill-_

"Hey, you still back there?" Dante pulls him from his head.

"Yes." he automatically responds. 

"Am I just talking to myself then?" 

"I didn't hear you say anything before." Nero looks to him.

"I asked what you were planning on doing when we get back home." he glances back "I'm assuming you're gonna take whatever info we get from this little trip as a bargaining tool for getting back into your pack, yeah?"

"That's the plan." That's half the plan, at least.

"What exactly happened, anyways?" cocking an eyebrow, Dante notices his confusion "I mean, what got you kicked out?"

"I do believe I said it was _you_ who got me kicked out." he mutters, momentarily glaring at him.

"Okay. What did I do then?"

"You forced me to take you to your friend. I betrayed my pack by showing you, a hunter, where our nest is and allowing you to live despite that." Falling into silence, Nero watches as he seems to contemplate this for several seconds.

"I guess I didn't think of it like that." he pauses "And they let you live?"

"For now."

"Do you think it'll work?"

"I don't have another choice."

"Sure you do!" Dante says cheerily "There's more to life than being enslaved by a tyrannical monster."

" _Watch your tongue_." he grits out through clenched teeth.

"I'm just sayin'. You built your pack, right?"

"I turned most of them, if that's what you mean."

"Exactly. You made that pack. Why not be your own Master?"

"I can't… " Nero hesitates "that's not how it works."

"Why not?"

"It messes with the order of things." he says simply "If I defy my Master to make my own pack, or worse, take control of Master's, who's to say that the recruiter that I make will be any different than myself? That they won't defy me to make their own pack?" Nero returns to looking out of the car window once more, though there has been nothing worthy of notice for several miles "Besides, Masters are made to be Masters, and recruiters are meant to recruit. You can't trade for a role you weren't created for." 

"Ah, all that 'destiny' stuff is bullshit. Who do _you_ want to be? What do _you_ want?"

"I _want_ this conversation to be over with." he irritably mutters as he eyes a lone house in the distance, the lights still on within and shining through the windows.

"Okay, okay." Dante says with a small chuckle "I'll leave you to brood then."

\---------------------------

His weight harshly shifting to the left, Nero's head rolls forward, knocking his right side against the car window with a loud thump that rudely awakens him from his slumber. Groaning as he winces away from the door, rubbing the now aching spot on his head, he looks over to Dante pointedly. 

"Sorry." he apologizes as he tosses his cell phone into the passenger seat "Had to make a U-turn."

"Why?" he asks hoarsely before clearing his throat.

"Trish found it."

\---------------------------

Pulling up next to a familiar black car, they both exit their vehicle simultaneously as Nero looks out to the open sea ahead. The waves are deathly calm, reflecting the moonlight perfectly in the stillness of the waters. He can see the small, wooden dock to the right of them, a single boat docked on the end of it. Gently rocking with the movement of the blonde lady aboard it, he watches as she paces up and down, bending over periodically to reach the deck below and collect or deposit objects. 

"Can you see her?" Dante questions as he scans the area, likely unable to see Trish from this distance at night, despite the aid of the moon's light.

"Yeah," he points towards the dock "she's over there." Figuring that vague direction isn't enough, Nero takes the lead in walking towards the boat, hearing Dante following along behind him. As they leave the solid grass for the beach, Nero momentarily struggles to gain a foothold in the shifting sand.

"First time on a beach?" he chuckles as he passes by, leaving him behind to struggle.

"I believe so." Nero says as he holds his arms out wide, trying to find his balance on the actively moving terrain. There's no real need for him to ever be on a beach - most of his targets are in cities or town. Now he knows why, it's like trying to walk on a semi-solid, shifting liquid. He figures out the secret to sand quickly enough though, taking a slightly wider stance and a slower, more awkward gate as he follows behind Dante. 

"Didn't think you boys would make it in time." Trish shouts to them as they near, just before she directs her attention back to shifting around the items in the storage container on the boat "It's already past midnight."

"We were half way there by the time you called, what took ya so long?" 

"Well," she huffs " _you_ didn't make sure we'd have a ride to get to these islands."

"What? But I-" "-forgot to hire someone to ferry us over."

"I.." Dante steps up onto the dock, stopping just short of boarding the boat, causing Nero to stop behind him "I may have forgotten." he admits quietly.

"Yeah, I figured that out when the coordinates you gave me took me to an empty beach." she puts her hands on her hips as she stands up straight, sternly looking at him "Luckily there's a town not too far away. This nice fisherman lent me his boat for a couple nights." as she speaks, Dante climbs aboard, sitting down on one of the two planks acting as seats for the boat "For a price, of course. Told me it was docked over here." Nero hesitantly lowers one foot down onto the boat, planting it firmly on the bottom as the tiny vessel teeters back and forth in the water with the newly added weight "You had it all planned out… except for the most important part, huh?" she smirks at him, crossing her arms and legs as she sits down on the other plank. 

As the weight rocks the boat to the left harshly due to Trish, the demon finds himself losing his footing, reactively moving his other foot from the safety of the dock as he tries to rebalance. No sooner does he have his foot on the hull does the vessel rebound to the right even harder, his center of gravity shifting too rapidly for him to prevent himself from falling forward. Wildly flailing both hands in front of himself, he manages to grab onto Dante's arms - the man had tried reaching towards the falling vampire but had been unsuccessful in catching him - saving himself from plunging overboard into the ocean water. It's at the cost of a portion of his dignity, though, as his body changes course, falling towards Dante, his shoulder running square into the man's chest. Finding his balance as he steadies his feet, he forcefully pushes his body off of the human, quick to rid himself of the unwanted, vial contact with him, flinging himself in such a manner that he sits himself in the empty spot next to Trish. 

"Ow, that hurt." Nero hears him chuckle, though he refuses to look in his direction, crossing his arms and looking towards the open waters like a pouting child. 

"Now that we're all seated," Trish's tone is mocking as he further creases his eyebrows "let's get this over with, shall we?"

\---------------------------

"There she is." Dante announces loudly, his body twisted backwards to see the approaching island. Looking forward, squinting his eyes to shield them from the rushing wind, Nero can see the impressively sized landmass in the distance. It appears to be nothing special, though it's oddly lacking in shoreline - instead, the edges of the land form cliffs. 

Drawing nearer, the boat changes its course of direction, running parallel to the cliffside as opposed to towards it. Momentarily watching as the waves slap mercilessly against the rocks, Nero scans the cliff as he looks up, noticing how the previously sleeping shorebirds quickly scramble from their ledges to fly away from the noisy motorboat passing by. Arching his neck backwards, he looks straight up to the top some hundred yards above them, though he cannot see over the edge. Suddenly, the cliffside ends, sharply opening up to reveal a horseshoe-shaped bay. Shifting his weight to move with the boat as it turns into the calmer waters, he observes how the land slopes down, eventually meeting with the water below to form a small, tan-sanded beach in the bay. Progressively slowing in speed as they come closer, Trish kills the engine just before landfall, safely beaching the vessel onto the sand. Though no traces remain of the dock, the eroded cobblestone pathway ahead, barely visible below the overgrown grass, indicates one had once existed here. 

Standing up on the boat as Dante and Trish both exit the boat, stepping into the ankle-deep water separating the vessel from the shore, Nero surveys the landscape ahead. Barren and bland it seems. Devoid of any useful life, though the tree line several miles inland obscures his vision. 

"How'd you know this is the right place?" Dante questions as he sloshes through the water.

"I asked around in that town I was telling you about. The ones that were still awake didn't wanna talk to a stranger, but I found some old lady sitting on a bench outside a shop. She rambled on about this and that… but eventually she told me that, when she was a girl, her papa had warned her to stay away from the isle off the coast." she speaks as she follows behind him, with Nero hopping into the waters after them "He was a fisherman, teaching her the family trade. She said she didn't ask why, he just told her that the island was cursed, nobody ever catches good fish over here apparently." the three of them head towards the cobblestone, eager to get away from the sand that's attaching itself to their wet shoes and clothes "So she never came here, but she did say that she could see a huge fortress on the other side, sitting over the water itself."

"This island is huge." Nero comments as he looks to each side, seeing nothing but land every which way he looks "It's not possible to search the whole place before daybreak."

"No, it's not." he agrees "But I'm pretty sure this path will take us somewhere useful…. eventually." Dante adds as he notices the long walk just to get to the woods ahead.

\---------------------------

"How long has it been?" 

"30 minutes." Trish responds, inciting a disgruntled groan from Dante. 

"Nothin' but trees out here." 

"Tsh," Trish scoffs "you've got the attention span of a toddler, you know?"

"No way! I'm better than that, a toddler wouldn't last…" Nero stops listening to their irritating bickering as he cautiously looks around - he's done so continuously since they landed. Constantly scanning for signs of nearby enemies, for signs of a threat of any kind. Even if the island appears deserted, he can't help the urge to do so. Even the most desolate of lands can harbor secrets. He should know, after all, given how many times he's ambushed prey under these same circumstances. 

Glancing to his left, he lazily looks over the area, as he had just done so not even a minute ago. Momentarily looking ahead, his eyes narrow as he double takes back to the left, his keen eyes having seen a suspicious speck of white in the darkness. Slowing his pace behind the two others, he observes the peculiar sight. A single stag stands in the distance, head turned to the side as he watches them pass with pointed ears. He seems hesitant, but curious. If the land lacks predators, he may not even know he should be running from them, seeing them only as strange new animals invading his land.

But that's not what makes him worthy of interest. Nero's seen a few deer as they pass by, other than their lack of fear they were nothing notable. No, unlike them, he warrants extra attention. The antlers he sports alone are impressive, reaching high and wide as the lack of human game hunters has allowed him to live to a respectable age, but his weaponry pales in comparison to the rest of him. His coat, unlike the spotted, brown fur of the others, is lacking in pattern. There are no spots, no stripes, no markings what so ever - there is only white. Knowing his own large size, he stands confidently, his pale camouflage failing to hide him in the black of the night. They maintain eye contact as the trio continues on, the two humans unaware of the buck's existence as they eventually lose sight of one another.

 _Odd._ he muses as he looks forward, staring at Trish's back. Watching her long, platinum blonde hair swishing back and forth with the movement of her hips, he sees her halt without warning.

"What’s wrong?" she questions as she sidesteps past Dante, though she only stands beside him.

"Path is gone." he answers simply as Nero walks up to his other side. Though the cobblestone was never very obvious, it's clear that the forest has reclaimed it from this point on. "Kid," Dante looks to him, who returns his gaze "get up into the trees and see if there's anything nearby." Scowling at him, Nero remains unmoving.

"You do realize that I only _look_ young, yes?" he's never been particularly fond of his demeaning nickname, but barking orders at him _and_ mocking him is pushing his luck. Nevertheless, he complies, turning his attention to a nearby tree soon after. Whatever it takes to speed this along.

"Well, yeah. I'm sure you'd look horrifying if you actually looked your age." He doesn't have to look back to know Dante's smirking, so he doesn't. Instead, he begins crouching down below a large branch as he stares up at it. There is no need to be quiet here, he can just jump up into the tree rather than climbing up like some primitive ape. 

Bouncing from one limb to the next, nearly breaking a few in the process, he gets as close to the top as he can. Finding the topmost branch capable of supporting his weight, he scopes out the area for signs of past human activity. Clearings in the forest, evidence of rubble or ruins, perhaps even a building or two if they still stand after all this time. He doesn't have to search long though, as it's immediately apparent there's a mountain range straight ahead, albeit some distance away. 

"Whaddya see?" Dante calls from below.

"There's mountains ahead." he replies as he works his eyes up from the base, towards the top. 

"Anything on them?"

"I think so." he says after moments of silence "It's hard to tell, it's a ways away." Straining his eyes, he tries to observe the anomaly sitting atop the peak, but all he can discern is that there's an alinement of tall objects, despite the lack of trees up top. Looking to the ground beforehand, he jumps back down to rejoin them.

"It's a very long walk. We might not get there before dawn." Nero warns as he stands up straight, glancing over to the man.

"Guess we - or, you - better hope there's a building up there then." Trish says sharply, her arms crossing as she turns away from them. The two of them watch her walking away briefly, before Dante looks to Nero.

"Ah, don't worry." he reassures "We'll walk a ways and you'll check it out again. If there's nothin' up there then at least we might be closer to somethin' else." turning away, he follows in Trish's footsteps "C'mon, let's get a move on." he says with the wave of a hand.

\---------------

Standing at the base of the mountain, all three are staring up at the daunting challenge ahead of them. At least they have a pathway again - the cobblestone had reemerged some miles back - so they know it's possible to get up to the top. The path up is wide and without stairs, instead moving with the mountain like a ramp. Though the trees still partially obscure the top, it's clear to Nero what's up there.

"I can see several pillars." he announces "And what looks to be stairs." Nero adds before looking to Dante "The pillars are probably lookout towers for a bridge that this path leads to. There must be a castle up there."

"How'd you know that?" Trish questions.

"Just an assumption. Humans love to build elaborate structures in the most inconvenient places, like on top of mountains." 

Dante hums thoughtfully as he briefly looks up the mountainside, considering Nero's words but offering no real response before walking ahead of them both.

\---------------------------

"This is… an interesting island." Trish notes with curious intrigue as she reaches the top first, crossing her arms as she scans the several-stories high towers before her. 

The two watchtowers Nero had seen below now stand before them on either side of the cobblestone, elegantly standing tall with matching insignia's on their faces - the same one as the one on his ring - the red coloration of the symbols has all but gone, leaving only a few solitary patches of faded maroon. Not knowing it has lost its purpose, it stands ready to watch over the people it had protected for so many centuries, as if they never left. The two structures rest on the bank a gorge, marking the entrance to a bridge leading to the impressively large, gothic castle sitting in the middle of the waterway. There are many bridges scattered around the castle, all connecting the old ruins to the banks of the gorge, but the one before them is untouched by time. Most of the others have not been so fortunate, with sections having already fallen down to join the water below. The entire structure - the bridges, towers, even the castle - is blackened, likely from algal and mold growth along the surface from centuries of neglect.

"Pretty well fortified." Dante comments as he comes up from behind the two, glancing around at the unnecessary amount of watchtowers paired to each bridge. There are other towers as well, located near the bridges but standing erect in the water. Their function isn't obvious - there's nothing connecting them to anything, and yet they reach even higher into the sky than the watchtowers. 

"Probably why they lasted for nearly two millennia, huh?" she comments "Just look at it." Placing his hands in his pants pockets, Nero momentarily observes the architecture before turning back to look upon the black horizon behind them. Faint rays of the sunrise are beginning to peak through, growing brighter with each passing minute.

"It's beautiful." Nero says monotonily, turning back to the bridge ahead as he walks on "But I'm going to go inside. Sun's coming up."

"Thought you said morning light doesn't hurt?"

"I'm weak. I don't know how light will affect me."

"Well if you would just-" "- _I'm not drinking your blood._ " he snaps at Dante, stopping to turn back to him "Why're you so insistent on it?"

"Just sayin'. Beggars can't be choosers." the man shrugs, looking away from him to the forest below the cliff "You go on ahead, me and Trish are gonna scope out the area a little. See what you can find in there." Turning his back to them, he happily obliges to leave them for the isolation of the castle without another word. 

Occasionally glancing back as he walks, ensuring he's not being followed, he approaches the oversized double-door entrance. Petrified cypress it seems, most likely imported from the mainland - the forests surrounding them consist mainly of evergreen oak. Typical of humans to flaunt their wealth by putting unnecessary expenses into such a mundane detail. Grabbing on the iron handle, he doesn't have to pull much before the door's hinges break through the rust encapsulating them, allowing the door to open freely, albeit with a loud squeal of protest. 

Entering inside, the first room is, predictably, a large Grand Hall. Two stories, in fact, as the second story's balcony overlooks the first floor of the hall, several large maroon banners proudly sporting their emblem draping over the stone railing. Safely sealed away from the outside world, the decorum and furniture appear frozen in time. Covered in dust and spiderwebs, mind you, but otherwise untouched. As if the Order members have simply gone out on a mission. Walking along the blood-red central carpet, down the endless rows of wooden pews, neatly lined up and awaiting to be sat on, he sees artifacts lined up along the walls of the first story. Some in protective glass cases, some standing freely against the stone. Most, as the name of the Order would suggest, are swords of various ages, sizes, styles, design, shape, and use, but there are other weapons and relics as well. Battleaxes, maces, crossbows, spears, war hammers - you name it, they have at least two dozen of them in this room alone. 

Curiously, there's no armory displayed, only the occasional mannequin dressed up in a white trench coat, hoods covering the faces as each one clutches the hilt of a sword different from the others, the sword's tips pointing into the stone floor below. Each trench coat is designed differently as well - one is pure white, another is white with red bordering's, yet another white with maroon designs, along with the notorious red symbol on the shoulder.

Taking no interest in the trinkets of a long-extinguished organization, Nero moves along through in search of his real desire. He combs extensively through the halls, the bedrooms, the dining area and libraries for some hours - finding only books of fiction and science, some on history but not on their own. Feeling his eyelids beginning to droop with exhaustion, he cautiously steps around the afternoon light beaming through a broken window in the corridor he walks down. The two humans can search the remaining rooms. He, however, must rest now. Reaching the end of the hall, he suspects - he hopes - this hallway follows the same design as the others. If it does, the double doors standing before him must lead to a bedroom. 

Gently pushing one of the doors open, he peaks inside first to confirm his suspicions. Seeing the king-sized, dark oak canopy bed to the left with a dusty navy comforter, he enters into the room, leaving the door cracked open as a marker for the other two to find him in this immensely oversized castle. Next to the bed is the usual adornments a bedroom should have - nightstands, a dresser, trinkets, odds-and-ends, and singular sheets of paper from the previous owner litter the room. Walking towards the bed, he glances to the right, stopping when he sees a large glass display case sitting against the wall. Temporarily, he leaves the bed's side, favoring to inspect the weapon within the case. 

Eyeing it as he stops in front of the case, hands held behind his back, he observes the man-lengthed sword. Remarkably preserved, the blade curves along the edge, indicating it had been shaped to move with the body as it cuts through it, rather than a simple design of a broadsword's straight edge. He had seen similar blades while exploring; it appears to of been a favorite of the Order's. This one, however, is personalized - the base of the blade sports a still-deep maroon coloration to it, with the design of swirling, thorned vines running through it, beginning at the reddened hilt. Narrowing his eyes, he spots a strange attachment on the hilt. A trigger - or lever - it seems. Perhaps simply ornamental, implemented for looks rather than practicality. He can't exactly test it out though, the case is firmly sealed shut, its protective barriers thick to keep its contents safe from thieves. Mere curiosity is not worth the extra effort needed to open it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sharply inhaling as he wakes, Nero stretches out his fingers as he reaches his arms in front of himself, running them smoothly underneath the cool sheets as he lies on his side. Tilting his head up, he straightens out his previously curved spine as several of his vertebrae pop from being inactive for so long. The mattress is old and dusty, but the best one he's slept in in many, many years. _Stuffed with real feathers, woven from the wool of an alpaca…They don't make them like they used to…_ Exhaling the deep breath he took in, his lungs not needing air again for a while, he opens his eyes into silts, blinking several times to clear the fuzz in his eyes. Seeing a large blur in the corner of the room, rhythmically swaying back and forth, he squints at the object as his eyes come to focus.

"How…" he croaks as he recognizes the red coloration "how long have you been there?"

"Eh, half hour maybe." Dante says casually. Rubbing his eyes, his vison clears as he sits up in the bed.

"You're a creepy human." he groans, momentarily watching him as he moves back and forth in the rocking chair, an ankle resting on his knee while the other leg moves him. Flipping through the pages of a hard-bound book, he doesn't even look Nero's way. "I don't even watch people while they sleep." Chuckling, Dante replies. 

"I'm sitting here, minding my own business, reading a book. I'm not watching you." 

"Then why are you in my room?" he questions as the bed creaks under his shifting weight while his legs swing off its side.

"You left the door cracked."

"To show I didn't run off. It wasn't an invitation to come in and sit." he irritably responds as he stands up.

"Eh, maybe you're right..." he pauses before looking up at him "but we were waiting on you to wake up."

"You could've woken me up." 

"Nah. You looked too peaceful." Shooting him a disturbed glare, he rolls his eyes with a heavy, tired sigh upon seeing the smug smirk on the hunter's face. 

"What're we doing today?" Nero rotates his body to face him, arms crossing.

"Depends. Did you find anything before going to bed?" his face returns to casual as he resumes looking at the book in his hands.

"No."

"I figured." he sighs "Well, we found the town. It's back down the mountain to the south. We'll head there."

"We need the fortress, not the town."

"Yeah," Dante closes his book, tossing it onto the nightstand before looking up to him "but we couldn't see it from here. We're thinking the town is between this castle and the fortress, so if we get to the town, we can probably see the fortress from there."

" _Probably?_ " he huffs, eyebrows creasing "I don't have time for probably."

"You got a hot date tonight?"

"No, no - _enough_. I don't have time for your antics, I don't have the _patience._ " he compresses the anger in his tone, though his expression betrays him "I'm on a deadline and _you_ " he points at him for emphasis "have me running around on some kind of hope that we _might_ find something useful!" 

"I know, I know, you're hungry and can go into a blood lust any day now, but-" Dante waves his hand around calmly in gesture as he shakes his head.

"-no, no _buts._ " he growls out, his face intensifying "You're still hiding something from me. I don't know what, I don't care what. But this is a whole lot of trouble and expense for a guy as lazy and broke as you to go through just for some information."

"I'm not-" "-what could this place _possibly_ have that you want so bad that you're willing to trade off information to a vampire, to your enemy? I heard you talking to the werewolf, you know. I heard what the old man said. We've been causing a lot of problems for you, haven't we?" he sees the corners of Dante's mouth curling upwards "You're still not making any sense and I don't like it. How can you be so certain any of it's here anyways? We may be spending all this time and - _why the hell are you smiling like that??_ " he shouts with fists clenching as he notices the rather infuriating smirk on Dante's face.

"You get angry when you're scared, huh?" 

" _Scared?_ " he scoffs incredulously "Fear is a human trait. I'm not a human."

"Okay fine, you get angry when you're stressed."

"Of course I'm stressed!" he uncrosses his arms, huffing as he throws his hands up "I could be dead in a few days, riddled with _your_ bullets, and I'm here running around on this damn island looking for what is more than likely a false hope!" He stares at him for several moments as Dante quietly contemplates his words, nodding understandably before standing up from the chair. 

"C'mon, let's go." 

" _Let's go_?" he fake laughs, exasperated "Are you not listening to me?" 

"I am. C'mon," Dante pats his shoulder as he passes by him "you're not gonna die. Just trust me, this'll make sense once we get there."

"Trust you?" he questions, rotating himself as Dante exits the room "How can I trust someone like _you?_ "

"Easy." he glances back at him as he turns the corner, prompting Nero to follow "The same way I've been trusting you to not kill me, even though we both know you want to." He goes to reply snarkily, but is left with silently holding his mouth open as his expression relaxes. Closing his mouth as he looks down in thought, following behind the man as he leaves his unprotected back - save for his sword strapped firmly against him - openly exposed to him, he realizes Dante's right. A vampire that has no honor, even if it's to a human, is no better than the animalistic, bruteful werewolf. The least he can do is show Dante the same baseline respect he's been giving him - for now, at least. He said he would help, and help he will.

"Do you remember how to get out of here?" the human questions.

"Down the hall, take a left. There's a staircase to the left after you take a right at the end of that hall, the stairs lead to the first floor."

"…Okay, how about you lead the way?" Dante decides after being silent for a few seconds, slowing down to allow Nero to pass, who does so with an eyeroll.

"Where's Trish?" 

"She's at the end of the hall I think." With Nero leading the way, they near the second hallway soon enough, spotting Trish idly standing at the end with arms crossed in front of a glass display case, eyeing the medieval mace within as they both turn the corner. Slipping his hands into his pockets, he neutrally watches her without particular interest. 

The sound of a faint snap pulls his attention back, confusion crinkling his expression as he slows his pace, looking for the source of the noise instinctively. As Dante passes by, his gait unchanged as he goes to meet Trish, Nero disregards the noise as being just another sound of the ancient castle settling before hearing another, more distinctive crack.

"Dante." he says firmly as he comes to a halt, spurring the man to stop and look back at him, half turning to him. _He probably can't even hear the noises._ Glancing around the area calmly, but with a stern face, he spots a small, irregular line in the floor ahead of them just as another, louder crack echoes into his ears as the line grows longer. Eyebrows creasing further together, he realizes the situation as he glances to Dante, then back to the crack as another pop signals a growth in its width. _The structure is weak here. It can't handle this much weight._ Dante alone is hefty, but all three of their weights combined is more than enough to break a crumbling stone floor. As he follows Nero's eyes downwards, the line splits into two, signaling an unstoppable, rapid progression extending further towards Trish as it further splits into three, four, sixteen-

" _Hey, watch out!_ " Dante yells as he simultaneously twists his body around towards Trish, making to sprint towards her, though he's powerless to stop the inevitable. As she looks from the glass case in front to Dante, an eyebrow cocked at his odd outburst, the floor beneath her feet gives way. Silently, she plunges down with the crumbling stone before having the chance to realize the danger, perhaps too shocked to scream. As centuries of dust kick up into a thick cloud, Nero quickly grabs the back of Dante's coat, pulling him backwards harshly to counteract his forward momentum. 

" _Stop!_ " he angrily shouts at him over the sound of falling debris as Dante looks back at him, his expression equally irritable, though he makes no attempt to free himself from Nero's grip "You're going to cause the whole floor to collapse!" If Trish's petite weight caused a collapse, Dante's larger form may very well cause more damage if he goes near the already disintegrating area. "I'll go." he announces as the last bits of brick tumble down to the first floor, releasing Dante as he walks towards the dust ball ahead. 

He's not exactly small himself, being only a little thinner in frame and just as tall as Dante. The main difference between them is living, human weight is much heavier than the dead weight of a vampire. Strange how humanity has resisted evolving past their physical confinements. Disappearing into the dust, his vison is greatly obscured, barely capable of seeing more than a few inches in front of himself. He may have the eyesight of an eagle, but only if the area is clear. Carefully, he edges his way into the cloud, taking one precarious step at a time. One wrong move could plunge them both down with her. After a few moments, he finds the newly created, large hole in the floor, slowly scooting towards the ledge .

"Trish!" he shouts as he jumps back a step, the stone he had placed his foot on tumbling down to join the rubble below "I'm coming down, but I need to know where you are!" Hearing a low grunt from the floor below in response, he's at least able to pinpoint that she's not directly below him. With great care, he jumps down into the pile of stone and debris. Landing on all fours - better weight distribution than landing on his two feet - he slowly rises into a standing position. Though the air is a bit more clear down here, the dust hasn't settled enough to see anything but his immediate surroundings "I can't see through all this dust, where are you?" 

He doesn't receive a verbal response, instead he sees a thin, linear object rising in the distance, paler than the dirt in the air around them. Assuming this must be her arm, or at least an appendage of some sort, he moves closer as the limb falls back down into the rubble limply. Taking light steps, he takes his time moving towards her. Humans are so fragile, so prone to death, he wouldn't want to move in a way that moves more stone onto her. She's no use to him dead. Nearing closer, her pale figure becomes more clear, though she appears to be partially submerged in the pile. Crouching down for a clearer view as she lies at his feet, he first notices her entire lower half - save her left calf and foot - are trapped beneath the stone chunks. 

"This is fine." he says neutrally as he pushes aside the first layer of rocks entombing her "This is survivable, nothing appears broken." he's unsure if she's conscious enough to hear him, but he speaks anyways "Likely a mild concussion." his eyes trailing further up her body, he notices the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest "Breathing is normal. No big deal, humans have survived far-" he stops. Mind and body freezing, his mouth unable to finish the sentence he started. He can feel it happening, spreading throughout his body like an unhinged wildfire. His eyes, though he cannot see them for himself, burn within his skull as his irises likely begin to reflect the color of the liquid oozing unrestricted from her forehead. Reaching a shaking hand up to the wound, he hesitates several times, flinching back towards his body each time. He fights the urge, knowing this can only end with his death, but he cannot deny his hunger. It's been too long. The joints in his fingers violently snap in and out of place as they elongate while his blackened index finger touches the red substance. His eyes focusing solely on the blood, he wipes his trembling finger across the length of the wound, ignoring the pained grunt from Trish. As she weakly tosses her head to the side, removing his touch from her face, he brings his bloodied finger to his face. 

**_You're treading on dangerous territory. You're going to lose control._ ** __

_I just… I just want to smell it…_

His hand, confident and steady, moves his finger under his nose, allowing him to further investigate the sweet liquid's contents. He can smell it. Not just the characteristic scent that iron gives blood, no, he can smell _all of it._

_She's type O+, low blood sugar… organs functioning well…_

Allowing droplets to run down to his palm, he opens his mouth, rolling his lengthened tongue out over his enlarged, sharpened teeth as he closes his eyes in anticipation.

"Nero!" Clenching his teeth shut before he can taste the sweet liquid, he furrows his eyes as his head snaps towards the gruff voice calling him. The dust is still too thick; he cannot see him. Feeling deep growls reverberating throughout his body in warning to the hunter, he retreats backwards on his hands and feet a few paces away from her, desperately looking above for the voice's source. "Listen to me." Pinpointing the voice, he scowls up, teeth barred as he sees the red human step into view, standing on the edge of the gaping hole in the floor above as the dust particles slowly settle. "It doesn't have to be this way." As he jumps down to join them, Nero backs further away, into the dark hallway, carefully eyeing him. He keeps his position low - more defensive than aggressive, though his snarling intensifies.

 _I can't win this fight._ Even with his blurred, starved mind, he can still recognize this. Not all is lost yet then - he hasn't entered into bloodlust if he's still capable of rational thought.

"Just - just calm down." Dante holds his hands up submissively, crouching down in his position to further show he's not a threat. Nero only watches. For a split moment, he looks to Trish, before returning sight to his enemy. Dante mirrors his action, though his eyes linger on her longer. 

_If… if I could just feed on her, for just a moment, I could fight him off…_

_**Feed on her and you will lose his trust.** _

"I can help you, but you have to let me help." Nero slowly inches towards the comatose woman as Dante speaks, undeterred by his nor Master's words.

_**I'm ordering you to stop! Do you hear me? If you do not return with him, I will personally see to your death! Do you understand?** _

_No, I don't… I want to live… I want to return home…_ he halts, one hand extended out towards her body in longing.

"Don't you want to be better than this?" Dante questions, placing a careful foot in front of himself, towards Nero, prompting the demon's attention to shift towards the approaching threat "Don't you want to be more? To live how _you_ want to live for once?"

_I'm.. I'm hungry…_

_**Your thirst put you in this situation, you have nothing to blame but yourself.** _

"Nero?"

Who are you to judge? You've never gone a night without a meal!

**How dare you speak to me in such a manner!**

"Nero, can you hear me?"

"Too many…" he cringes away, sealing his eyes and shaking his head as he tries to organize the voices in his head "…can't… ugh…" grasping his ears, he pulls harshly on them as he grits his misshapen teeth, as if ripping off his own ears will render him incapable of hearing even his own thoughts.

"Hey, it's going to be alright, okay?" Nero hears him take another step forward, sending him into a panic as he feels increasingly cornered. Eyes shooting open, he launches himself at the human without warning, using his good hand to swipe his talon-like nails across the man's torso as his other hand grasps his shoulder, pulling him down as he lands on his feet on the other side of the rubble. Feeling the warmth of Dante's hand clawing at his own, cold hand, he knows his other hand must be reaching to one of his pistols. Denying him the opportunity to use it, he instead, as if he were no different than a ragdoll, flings him into a nearby wall before abandoning the both of them, sending another cloud of dust into the air as the frail wall cracks with the man's weight. 

Pushing his ailing body, he puts all his energy into running. Running as far away from this wretched place as possible. He doesn't know where he's going - it doesn't matter. The more distance put between him and the hunters, the greater his chance for survival. If he can somehow, by some miracle, escape from this… maybe, just maybe, he can feed, and then everything will be okay… Nevermind the human, he's a lost cause. This whole mission was. Chasing after this fantasy of being able to trick such a cunning human will be the death of him, he should've been able to put his pride aside long enough to recognize this. He'll have to make it as a rogue, far from what was once his home territory. At least then he'll have a shot at surviving, even if it will be a meager, lowly existence…

_**Coward. Running from humans. There's nothing more shameful.** _

He doesn't bother responding, he knows it's true. Passing the watchtowers at the end of the bridge, he ditches the cobblestone pathway as he hears the double door entryway of the castle slamming shut. There's no need to look back for confirmation, by now Dante should be chasing after him. He doesn't feel the rush of bullets passing by, or through, him, but then again he can't feel anything at the moment. Maybe he overreacted - panicked when there wasn't really a need to. Dante wasn't acting like he was going to kill him, after all. Probably just wanted to restrain him until he could regain control of his mind, realizing all too late that Trish would be bleeding, and the mere sight of blood in his hungry state would cause him to snap.

 _What's done is done. No point in wondering about the past._ Zig zagging through the trees, he begins the descent down the mountain, a treacherous task wrought with steep drop offs and impassible ways when not on the carefully selected cobblestone path.

\------------------------

Shifting his weight to his left foot, he removes his right hand from the crevice he placed it in, quickly replacing it in a hole further down. He does the same with his right foot and left hand, before glancing over his shoulder.

 _The ground is only a few feet away now. I can make a fall this high._ Directing his head to be forward-facing, he then pushes himself against the cliff, launching himself into a freefall away from the dangerously jutting rocks. He sticks the landing, though soon loses his footing and topples over into a sad heap on the forest floor. The thought of getting back up runs through his mind, but he decides to simply lie there instead, feeling the full force of his strained and tired muscles taking effect. Turning his head slightly upwards, he looks to the mountain behind him. Rather than the gradual elevation provided by the human-made pathway, this path, the path he made for himself at random, took him to a sheer drop off some thirty feet off of the ground with no alternative routes other than to turn around and try a different direction. In his prime, such a drop would be no issue, but now, in this pathetic, debilitated, starved state… he's just as mortal as the average human. His head limply falling back down against the ground, his eyelids start to flutter as he stares out into the empty woodlands before him. 

_I need to rest…_ He doesn't resist for long, closing his eyes soon after making this decision. Though, apparently, he can't even have this, as a shrill sound pierces through his ears, startling him awake. Jumping into an upright, seated position, he scans the area for the source of the noise, but soon relaxes when he hears it once more. It's the sound of a horse's whinny off in the distance, though in the stillness of the night it sounds exaggerated. 

Begrudgingly, he stands on his feet, brushing himself off of the leaves and dirt that cling to him. Not that it does much good, he's too filthy for a simple brushing to clean him. Satisfied with just getting the larger chunks off, his legs automatically move him forward as he continues to trudge on.

\------------------

Head hanging low, body bruised and battered, his spirit beaten, he wanders aimlessly in the vast expanse of trees. It's been hours. He's not getting off this island alive - he doesn't even know where he's at. The last time he tried to climb a tree to gather his bearings, he damn near fell out when his calf muscle's gave out. It doesn't matter. At this point, he hopes Dante finds him - then, at least, he can go out swinging, like how any respectable vampire dies. But not like this. Anything but this. 

_**I tried to help you, did I not? But you refused. And now, here you are. Beaten, dirty, wishing for death.** _

_I'm.. sorry._

_**Sorry will not help you.** _

Briefly looking up, just to make sure he isn't heading straight for a cliff, he then resumes staring down at the dirt beneath his feet. Furrowing his eyebrows, he looks back up again with more vigor, thinking perhaps he's already reached a state of hallucination. But his eyes aren't deceiving him. Coming to a stop, his confusion deepens as he watches as a snow-white stag - whether it's the one from before or not is anyone's guess - stares back at him in the same manner that the other buck had done before. This one, however, is standing directly ahead of him, no more than ten yards away, his head and body pointing at him as if he had been walking towards Nero before being noticed. Perhaps the stag is mistaken, believing the pale, white-haired vampire to be a rival buck.

_Wouldn't that be a way to go? Beaten to death by a stag._ he muses to himself as he notices the numerous, finely tipped points on his large antlers. 

They stare at one another for some moments, as neither one seems to know how to exit the situation safely, before the stag's ears suddenly flick backwards as he lowers his head into a more natural, relaxed position. He continues to watch the vampire, but seems to lose interest as he swivels his head to the left, his body soon walking in that direction as he turns around. As the stag moves further away, Nero walks to where he once stood, still watching as the deer's tail flicks back and forth to each flank with every step, head bobbing up and down rhythmically. 

_Follow him._ He's not sure how the thought popped up in his head, but given his lack of options, he obliges. He's probably going to a water source or to an open field to feed. Neither will bring him any closer to escaping the island, but it's be better than being in the mind-numbing repetition of an endless field of identical trees. Shoving his hands into his pockets, his eyes focus on the deer casually strolling on ahead as he follows behind. He follows him for some ways, the buck never faltering or quickening his pace, though surely he must know he's being followed. The air is quiet, save for the crunching of leaves beneath their steps, when his ears pick up on a new noise. A knocking-like sound, perhaps five knocks at most, before disappearing. Not a threating sound in the least, though he ponders what may have made the noise anyways, until hearing a distorted version of the noise beneath his own feet. 

Looking down as he stops, he realizes the knocks were the sounds of the deer's hooves hitting cobblestone - the same cobblestone he's standing on now. He's found a path. Perhaps not one that will lead him back to the boat, but a path nonetheless - it'll at least lead him _somewhere._ Glancing up, he realizes he's alone once again - the stag has moved on, out of sight. Looking to his left, then to the right, his eyes see nothing notable at either end. Not even anything slightly different between the two paths. Just two, identically straight cobblestone pathways, lined with trees, but going in opposite directions.

 _Which way?_ Choosing the wrong way could easily take him right back to his pursuer and his legs, weak from hunger and exhaustion, may not allow him to put up a half-decent fight against the human. Despite his need for sustenance, he at least won't have to worry about triggering into a bloodlust for now - his body is too tired for such a drastic alteration. _I'll go…_ he leers down the left path, then the right. Repeating this motion once more, he sighs heavily. _What's the point? I'm going to die either way. The plan won't work, I'm not going to find the boat before them._ Tilting his head back, he looks up to the moon, hoping it will lead him down the best path, as it has done before. Too often has the bright star been his only companion in situations such as this one, when he's lost and uncertain. At least it's a clear night, with enough light emanating from the waxing gibbous to light the area well. Noticing the moon is hanging over the right pathway, he makes his decision to walk towards the moon's light. Hoping this decision won't be his last, he rotates himself to the right as he trudges down the unknown path.

\-----------------------------

Squinting his eyes, he can see something in the distance - a short wall, it seems. 

_It's about damn time._ He's been walking for thirty-some minutes without any change in scenery, following a path that he was beginning to believe leads nowhere. As he nears it some more minutes later, he confirms it's indeed a stone wall, no taller than three feet and beginning at either side of the cobblestone pathway, though it extends farther than his eyes can see. _Likely an entrance._ An entrance to what, he's not sure, but he suspects he won't have to wait long to find out.

\---------------------------

 _A house._ he notes as he passes by the abandoned one-story stone-built home, hidden snuggly into the woods, the petrified wooden door closed shut as if it's still protecting its occupants. Though, the entire lack of a roof and broken out windows reveals the truth of its neglect. Looking ahead, he notices there are several more buildings ahead, some lining the path and others tucked away into the trees. _I must be near the town._ he realizes _Shit._ he comes to a stop _That means I'm heading further into the island, away from the boat._ Grunting his frustration, he turns back around, going back in the direction he just came. There are no humans left here anymore, therefore there is no food, making exploring here for the sake of sight-seeing an unwise decision. 

_"Nero…"_ Stopping abruptly, he frantically darts his eyes around his surroundings, muscles tensed with hands and fingers extended. He can't win a fight right now, but sometimes just appearing threatening is enough. The voice sounded feminine, airy with a touch of warmth to it, but distant. Most certainly not his, Master's, or Dante's voice. Twisting his body around momentarily for a full 360 view, scanning as he does, he sees something moving in the forest ahead. Eyes locking on, he rotates so as to face it head-on. Furrowing his eyebrows, he leans his head forward, observing their motions with straining eyes as he watches them hold their arms over their head. Sighing with irritation, he realizes with the rhythmic swaying with the wind's breeze that it's just a tree with odd limbs. 

_"C'mon, Nero… come play!"_ A child's voice giggles - also female.

"Who's there?" he snaps, twisting his head around with renewed panic. 

**_Leave this place._ ** __

_Master?_ he sighs with relief as his muscles automatically relax, having not heard Master's voice in quite a while _I thought you had left me… Yes, yes I'll leave…_ Without hesitation or second thought, he turns his back to the town. Maybe, with a stroke of luck, Master will still allow him back, despite his repeated failures…

 _"Oh, Nero - what happened?"_ The warm voice returns, sounding fearful and concerned. Glancing backwards as he walks, he could've sworn the voices were coming from behind, but all he sees is the rotting, abandoned buildings.

_**Don't look back. It will only tempt you.** _

Though he nods his head in understanding to the voice in his mind, something pulls at him. Tugging his mind backwards as he tries to move forward, prompting him to continue his gaze behind himself, unconsciously slowing his gait in doing so. 

_What.. what is it?_ he hears laughter - faint, but still clear to him. Genuine, content laughter from the same woman.

_"Nero, don't do that! You know I'm ticklish!"_

**_An evil presence, preying upon the weak and misguided. It warps your mind, persuading you with what it thinks you desire, leading you as a willing participant to your own death._**

Nero hears his Master's warning as the laughter dies down, and yet… he isn't bothered by it. The woman's voice is soothing. Reassuring. It can't be evil. Could it? Or, perhaps, he's not alarmed simply because he knows enough about Master to know this could easily be a lie. His faint hopes of redemption haven't blinded him to the facts, after all. He's seen what happens to insubordinates before, the torment they go through before finally being given the death they come to long for… Hell, he's had a taste of it himself. There is no desire to help him survive this entity. Master only wants him to survive so as to kill him upon his return. Stopping, he hears the sound of soft, delicate cries, pained and subdued.

"She's hurting." he whispers to himself, quickly turning towards the town once more, concern washing over his expression as his thoughts of leaving are immediately ditched.

**_You idiot, there is nothing there!_ **

"No… no, someone's there." he concludes with ceased brows, a sense of panic beginning to set in as he starts walking. As he approaches the nearby degraded houses, the cries become steadily louder with each step "She needs help."

_**Say there is a woman there - you're going to risk your life, for what? A human in distress? Why should you care?** _

"I don't… I don't know." he admits as he breaks into a frenzied sprint, compelled beyond his own will to follow the sobbing. There's no room for thinking, he _has_ to help her, even if it's the last thing he does. Passing the houses, or at least what's left of them, he stops upon realizing the path not only widens by several feet, but also splits into several different directions. He can't see where any of the paths will take him. Each one twists and turns, eventually wrapping behind stone walls of still-standing buildings. Listening carefully as he scopes out the area, he pinpoints the voice as leading him down the leftmost path, alongside the woods. Bursting into an all-out run, he follows this path for longer than he cares to note, the cries ringing in his ears with enough fervor to disorient his vision into tunneling. All he can see is cobblestone - all he can hear is the woman's cries. 

Without warning, his hearing silences, startling him into skidding to a stop. He listens, but he only picks up the mundane sounds of crickets chirping in the night. As if nothing happened. Darting his eyes from left to right, he sees nothing suspicious or extra-ordinary, moving his head to mimic his eye movements. He feels anxious, but there's more to it - an edge, so to speak, digging at him as it threatens to plunge him into insanity. _Is this fright? Why am I frightened?_ He can't dwell on it now. There's no time. Spinning back around, he strolls down the path he just ran with a fake calmness, looking for signs of something he may have missed. To his right, he sees the beginnings of a rusted, old wrought iron fence. Narrowing his eyes in suspicion, he moves alongside the fence, intensely looking over it. Though, the only notable feature about it is it's astounding perseverance against mother nature. Some four hundred years later and he can _still_ see the occasional spec of its original black coloration. 

Coming to what appears to be the fence's gate, he stops. Like the fence, it sports spikes along the top, though the tips have long since become blunted from the effects of centuries of rain. Bending over, he grabs onto the short pole sticking into the ground, keeping the gates firmly closed. Putting far too much strength into pulling it out, he stumbles backwards when the pole snaps at its base, its lower half having rusted into nothingness in the dirt. Finding his balance again, he irritably discards the iron piece to the side as his other hand grabs onto the gate. Pushing at it gently at first, he finds the hinges no longer swing open as they likely once did. Angling his body, his feet firmly digging into the earth, he uses his raw weight to push against it. Groaning as the seconds tick on, uncomfortably pressing his body against the metal bars, the gate eventually gives in, opening into a 45 degree angle with a shrill squeak. Passing through the gap, Nero glares at the hunk of iron, as if it had been purposely trying to keep him out. 

Turning his gaze ahead, he sees an expansive field lying in front of him, full of large, linear rocks sticking up above the ground. Most are of different shapes and sizes, but all are neatly lined up in uniform rows. _A graveyard._ Walking closer, he looks over the various headstones. Most are plain, short with a rounded top, the etches put on it having eroded illegibly as moss and black mold work at reclaiming the rock. Some are almost ready to return to the earth, having sunken deep down, revealing only a couple inches of stone tilted above the dirt. There are suspiciously empty patches of land sporadically placed between the next marker, pieces of land that likely once sported their own stones too. There's no telling how old these graves may be - if the Order was around for over two millennia, he may very well be walking over bodies dating back to the first century.

Exploring further in, he notices the stones becoming more elaborate in their design the farther he walks in, their position more upright than the slowly falling headstones from before. Names, though blurred, are becoming more recognizable as letters. _Must be the more recent section._ Peering up at the rather large, pillar-like, intricately-designed headstone as he passes by, he's able to clearly read it's etchings - 'May you find the peace you brought us'. He scoffs loudly, as if 'peace' could ever exist with humans. It's no more in his nature than theirs. Moving along past without another glance, he can see several other headstones that follow the same basic style as the one from before, though each one appears to sport designs unique to the individual. Still, the majority are plain, listing only faded names, dates of birth and death, and what's probably a short life description below. An entire human life, summarized into one, brief sentence on a headstone…

Huffing loudly, he stops as he glances around the huge field. This is hopeless. There's no woman here. He's wasting time, wandering around this barren land. _I'll go back the way I came, the other direction must lead to…_ a sense of familiarity fills him as the sound of quiet sobs once again enters his ears, cutting off his train of thought. The panic from before doesn't return, he, in fact, feels at ease. As if nothing else matters in the world except him being right here, right now.

 _ **Listen to me, Nero,**_ He's unsure, though, if Master's been speaking this whole time and, deafened from even his own thoughts by the sounds of the woman's wailing, Nero just couldn't hear. He feels this must be true, but finds it of no interest to ask. _**you wish to come home, yes? I will allow this. But not if you become tricked into believing lies. Naivety and gullibility is of no use to me or to our pack. Do you not remember the warning I first gave you? The hearts of humanity are filled with deception, you must break away from this.**_

The cries ever present in his ears, dimly gnawing at his mind, he doesn't notice when he begins walking forwards, eyes staring straight ahead as he purposely ignores his Master's advice. Glancing around, realizing some moments later that his feet stopped, the area looks no different than the one he was in before. Graves surround him endlessly. Closing his eyes, accepting that he's finally lost, he feels a heavy sense of dread encompass him as despair and hopelessness set in. He rarely loses a fight - let alone a battle. And yet, here he is. Failed in the most important mission he's had. Running from a human. Weakened, starving… Defeated. _Again._

" _Hey, what's going on?_ " he hears his own voice softly speak as the sobs sharply lessen, though his mouth remains unmoved and his thoughts blank " _What's wrong, baby?_ "

 _"I'm afraid."_ the female speaks timidly. _I must protect her…_ his thoughts interject before the woman continues " _I… I don't want to lose you._ " 

_"Don't worry about me, I'll always be here. I'll be here to keep you safe._ " as a comforting warmth creeps in, spreading rapidly throughout his cold body, his mouth twists into a position foreign to him. Eyes slowly opening, he desperately hopes the woman will be here, standing before him, within his grasp. _"I love you, Kyrie. I always will."_ The warmth vanishing back into a chill running deeper than he's ever felt, horror sweeps across his face as his eyes register what's in his sight - her name beautifully sprawled across the top of the plain headstone. 

He can see her face in his mind, smiling broadly at his with her innocent brown doe eyes, red from irritation with cheeks flushed as the tears roll down unhindered. He can see his arms, tan and pink-tinged, wrapping tightly around her as he pulls her close, her face burrowing into his shoulder comfortingly as he engulfs her in his protective grip. 

_"Nero, don't do that! You know I'm ticklish!"_ He's thrust into another, more exuberant scene, arms still draped around her as she squirms under his wriggling fingers gently digging into her stomach, thrashing her back against his chest in spasms as she laughs uncontrollably.

 _"C'mon, Nero… come play!"_ A little girl stands before him, tugging at his own little right arm - looking just as normal as his left - with both of her small, soft hands. Matching brown hair and eyes, a smile bright enough to light a dark room - there isn't much need to guess on who this child may be. She turns away from him, letting him go before running as fast as her short legs can take her, her pink polka dot dress flapping gracefully behind her into the sunlight.

 _"Nero…"_ She holds him tenderly, her thin arms barely able to wrap themselves around his larger, teenaged frame as they sit underneath a large oak in an embrace. The side of her face rests against him, rhythmically moving up and down with the rise and fall of his chest, as he holds the back of her head delicately, fingers entangled gently in her silky hair as the other caresses her.

 _"Oh, Nero - what happened?"_ His left arm is extended out towards her as she holds the limb gently, her head pointing downwards as she examines the large, freshly clotted wound on his forearm. He hears himself… laugh?

 _"I'll be fine."_ he hears himself tell her, though her worrying expression as she looks up at him would suggest she doesn't believe him _"I've been hurt worse than this…"_

"…I'll be okay, don't worry about me so much." he verbally finishes his sentence, the memory of the small, warm smile forming on her face leaving his mind as reality sets in, abandoning him once more to the darkness with only a gravesite left to comfort him. Staring at her name, faded with age but clear as day to him, he lowers his head as a deep frown settles on his face, the static silence of the night tipping him closer to collapsing in on himself as he feels an unfamiliar lump growing in his throat.

_**Weak. To think I offered you a chance of redemption. I should have just killed you.** _

"You already did."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it's not clear, she's not a ghost. It's his memories. And, in case it's not clear for this too, there's a lot in the last half of the chapter that's supposed to be confusing. It'll make sense later - hopefully ;)


	6. Insecurity

He can hear him. Thick leather boots softly crunching dead leaves with each step he takes. At first creeping closer quietly, he must realize Nero has no intention of running as his gate shifts from careful to normal.

 _Let him come._ he tightens his grip on the gravestone's edges, eyes sealed shut as he presses his forehead further against her name as he sits with crisscrossing legs on her grave. Mind filling with the memory of her sweet, beautiful face as the hunter, having successfully found and cornered his prey, halts to his side, the pebbles beneath his boots scrapping together as they shift with the newly added weight. The air quiet again, with only the sounds of rustling leaves as the wind blows, he waits. Waits for sharp metal to end him, just as it had with all the vampires before him. He can hear the human fiddling with his weapons, metal clinking and leather shuffling together, clearly taking his time. Likely reviling in his victory as he towers over the hunched, vulnerable demon. Hearing the familiar clank of the sword unhitching from his back, he scrunches his face as he prepares for the short-lived pain, the memory of her his only source of comfort as he awaits a second death.

His body jumping with a start to the sound of the weapon hitting the rocks behind him, his eyes reactively flinch open, removing his face from her headstone to find the origin of the noise behind him in a single fluid motion. Dante's sword, brightly reflecting the moonlight on its blade as it lies uselessly on the ground, out of its owners possession. His peripheral vision catching movement, he looks to his side, realizing that the hunter is making to sit to his left.

"What are you doing…?" his hoarse voice asks. 

Dante glances to him momentarily as he plops down beside him.

"Uh, sitting down." he replies plainly, settling into a crisscross position as well "Had to walk a pretty good ways to get Trish back to the boat, then to find you." he speaks as though nothing is wrong. Trailing down, he notices the gashes he left on his chest - four, to be exact, extending from his right shoulder and reaching nearly down to the leftmost corner of his abdomen. They don't appear too deep, already scabbed over in fact, but likely still unpleasant. His frown deepening, he turns away, pressing his forehead against the headstone he still clutches dearly. 

"Oh, these?" Dante questions, likely gesturing to his chest "Ah, don't worry about it. I'll be fine. Do you have any idea how many times I've gotten banged up worse than this?" 

"I used to tell her that." he whispers, the lump in his throat rising rapidly. It's hurting his throat at this point, but he's unsure of how to get rid of it - there's no physical obstruction in his neck. He already checked.

"Hm?"

"I used to tell her I'll be fine. That everything will be okay." he pauses, but Dante offers no words to him "She was always more insightful than me." his voice cracks as he feels a drop of rain roll down his face, soon followed by another droplet sliding down the other.

For a few moments, there's only silence. Feeling a warm, large hand gently place itself on his right shoulder, gripping onto him in comfort, he longingly gazes at her name. As more droplets steadily coat his cheeks, dripping unhindered onto his pant legs below, the pain in his throat subsides. He doesn't question why he doesn't feel the rain across the rest of his body. 

\---------------------------------

"Hey, listen…" Dante breaks the silence "…I know you're in pain right now. But.." he pauses "we really need to get home."

"I am home." 

"This _was_ your home." he corrects "But if we don't get moving, this is gonna be your grave too." 

Sighing heavily, Nero slowly looks over to meet his gaze with half-lidded, tired eyes. Seeing the conflict on the man's face, slightly illuminated from the rays of light peaking over the horizon, he realizes he must look like absolute shit, as whatever expression he's holding prompts Dante to place his left hand on Nero's left shoulder, pulling him into a firm side-hug. For a few moments, he allows this, limply leaning onto him as Dante's hand keeps him stuck in this position. The lump in his throat returns with renewed vigor, but this time he has no relief. Removing his hands from Kyrie's headstone, he instead places his own right arm around Dante's back, his deformed hand gripping onto his trench coat as his other arm crosses against his wounded chest, this hand too gripping his coat just above his other hand.

Feeling Dante's hand shift down to his bicep, he simultaneously feels the hunter's other arm wrap around his chest, engulfing him in a comforting bear hug. He knows Dante must feel like he's hugging an iceberg, but the warmth he's stealing from him is exceedingly relaxing. It's almost like when he would embrace someone, holding them in place so as to not cut open an artery too deeply as he fed on them, their blood warming him from the inside as their body against his own brings warmth to his skin. It's the only time he ever feels truly warm.

"You need food." he states as he lets go, likely realizing his cold state means he grows more hungry. Scooting away from him as Dante stands up, he gives himself enough room to stand as well in doing so.

"I'm fine." he insists, though he hears laughter from the other as he takes note of their surroundings.

"Memories or not - you're stubborn either way." snatching up his sword, he walks towards the graveyard's gate "Let's get out of here." 

Looking back down at the eroding tombstone, he remains unmoving. 

"Nero?" he hears him stop some moments later. He doesn't answer. "We have to go." Dante speaks as he can be heard walking back to him.

"I don't want to go."

"The sun is already coming up. We gotta get you out of here." 

"Go take care of Trish. Just leave me here."

"C'mon." Dante persists "Do you really want him to win?"  
   
"What the hell are you talking about?" he looks at him with confused irritation.  
   
"Your Master. If you die here, he wins."  
   
"Oh. I don't know if Ma-" he hesitates "I don't know if they're male or female."  
   
"Either way," Dante waves it off "you live, they lose. You know everything about the pack, you could easily take them all out - _Master_ included - once you get your strength back up."  
   
"Take them out? Are you kidding? I can’t take them out." he huffs incredulously at such a ridiculous notion.  
   
"Kid, listen, I _know_ you can."  
   
"This pack is almost twice the size of the next largest pack in the continent. They have nests all over." he could almost laugh at him, instead only giving him an amused look "Surely you must know the bigger the pack, the stronger the Master."  
   
"No, the bigger the pack, the stronger the recruiter. Master's are strong, no doubt, but their recruiters have to be stronger. They do all the heavy lifting, after all. You've got the largest pack on the continent, so what's that say about you?"  
   
"What- I… no, that's not correct." he creases his eyebrows as the gears in his mind start turning again, the fog of his sorrow beginning to lift as he's forced to think of other things.  
   
"Did Master tell you that?" Nero opens his mouth to reply, but slowly closes it as his conflicting thoughts run through his head "You taught me a lot, but there's a lot you don't know about too." he says matter-of-factly "But that's a discussion for when you're not about to be fried to a crisp. It boils down to this - do you, or do you not, want to teach 'Master' a lesson?"  
   
"I, well… yes." he says after some moments of hesitation. Desire for something doesn't make it attainable, however.  
   
"Then let's get to it." 

\---------------------------------

Startled back to reality with the sound of the trunk creaking open, the light of a nearby street light painfully hitting his eyes soon after making the wrong decision of opening them, the old vampire cringes deeper into the fetal position he's been in for several hours now. By the time they made it back to the rental, the sun was climbing dangerously high. Though tinted, the car windows would not provide enough coverage to protect his increasingly susceptible skin. The only safe option was for him to hop into the trunk, safely sealed away from the sun, and hope that Dante didn’t get rear-ended. After knocking around relentlessly for the first hour, he learned to simply curl up and try to protect his battered body the best he could. It didn't take him too long before passing out in the cramped darkness, his exhaustion winning over despite the harsh conditions, only awakening when Dante would take a sudden sharp turn and knock him awake. 

"You drive like shit." he mumbles out as he tries to pry his eyes open. 

"We were being followed."

"Followed?" he questions as he peers a single eye up at the man standing over him, arms crossing, as he stretches out his locked muscles, slowly sitting up in the trunk "By what?"

"By your buddies I suppose. They finally let up once the sun had been out for a while."

Gripping onto the edge of the trunk, he hoists himself out as Dante steps back a generous amount. His legs, overused from hours of constant use, then immediately underused by sitting in a trunk for several hours, buckle under his weight at first.

"You've got a big bounty on your head now, kiddo. Your Master knows you could kill them and your pack once you get your strength back up. If they're smart-" "Stop saying that." Nero interjects sharply, though he averts his gaze from him as he closes the trunk, balancing himself with his other hand by leaning onto the car.

"Uh… stop saying you can kill them?"

"Stop saying 'your' and 'Master'. I don't have a pack and I don't have a Master."

"There ya go, that's the spirit." Dante sounds cheery - obviously mistaking his words as meaning he's taken on the rebellious attitude he wants from Nero.

"No, I mean… I don't know what I mean." he admits with a somber sigh, staring at the empty street beside them absentmindedly. 

"I know." he doesn't look to him, but he can hear the sympathy in his voice.

As Dante walks through his line of sight, Nero watches his back as he walks towards the shop's entrance for a moment. Glancing around the area quickly, he soon follows after him upon catching the sight of a pair of orbs in a nearby darkened alleyway, likely waiting for the late sunset to fade completely into night. It's not like him to scurry away like this, let alone seek protection from another, but he has no other option besides death. 

"Are you not worried?"

"About?"

"Them attacking you. Or Trish. Or that awful black-haired woman you work with." he explains "Though it wouldn't be the worst if she got attacked.." he mumbles, though Dante appears to have heard him, chuckling as they both enter the safety of the shop.

"You mean Lady? No, not really. They don't have beef with us, just you." he says as he picks up a neat stack of mail sitting on the corner of his desk "They'll attack whoever gets in their way of getting to you, if, say, Trish were to stand between you and them, but they're not going to target us just because we know you. That causes too many enemies." he rifles through the pieces of mail, tossing aside some while keeping others "The only one they might go after is me, but I can handle my own. I did drop off Trish at Lady's place though, just in case. They're probably a bit riled up right now, better to be safe than sorry."

"Do you think this'll work?" he questions after a moment of quiet, sparking Dante to glance up at him momentarily.

"Sure. You just have to hunker down in here until you get your strength back up. You'll be safe here, they can't come in without an invitation. They'll leave you alone once you're in tip-top shape again, they're just trying to pick you off while you're down." Nodding understandably, he watches Dante carelessly slaps the rest of the mail he was holding back onto his desk as he directs his full attention to the demon. "We gotta get some blood in you first though."

"No - I'm not drinking your blood!" he says firmly as he snaps his head back up.

"No, not mine." Dante reassures as the other sighs in relief "Got a couple friends over at the blood bank in the next town over. Pretty big organization and they usually get in more of certain blood types than they actually need. Can't use any expired blood on people so I could probably snag some bags from them tomorrow morning. It's too late today."

"Oh good. Old, expired blood." �  
"I mean the offer still stands-" Dante reaches out a wrist towards him as he speaks, a smirk on his face "-no, no, that's okay." Nero backtracks immediately, holding up his hands in surrender "I'll take the expired blood."

"Good." he emphasizes with an affirmative nod before turning his gaze away as he heads towards the bathroom.

"I'm, uh… I'm just going to go ahead and head downstairs for the night." 

Though he slept a great deal in the trunk, it wasn't exactly the kind of restful sleep his body and mind still demands of him. He'd rather be alone right now anyhow.

"Hey." Dante speaks just before Nero can round the corner out of the room. Stopping as he backtracks a few steps, he looks over to the hunter with a brow raised. He sees the man returning from the restroom, a small toolbox in his hand, just before he places said box onto the desk. "Do you _actually_ remember now, or are you just playing along?" he asks without looking to him, instead placing his attention on looking through the contents of the toolbox.

"Umm… well, I remember some things, yes."

"Like what?" 

Watching him as he places several objects onto the desk, he quickly recognizes the items to be for wound care. He still hasn't washed off the old, nearly day-old, crusty blood from the injuries he inflicted on him, even though it's become cracked in several places, threatening to flake off by itself. 

_Gross._

Observing him as he shuts the toolbox, the demon keeps quiet for several more moments, contemplating what he should reply with. If he cannot trust the being that he loyally stood beside for some few centuries, how is he to trust this human that he, time-wise speaking, barely knows? Dropping his gaze to the floor, he decides on a fairly neutral response.

"I remember being alive."

He doesn't hear a response from him for several moments.

"Who was that woman? The woman in the graveyard." His tone is more of genuine curiosity than anything else, though he's still reluctant to answer truthfully.

"She, uh… she was.." Nero struggles as he glances up to him, though quickly looks back down to the floor again when he realizes the hunter is looking at him as well as he dabs liquid onto the gauze he's holding. Seeming to notice his uncomfortability, Dante quickly interjects.

"Ah, don't worry about it, I only ask because she must've been one hell of a woman." looking back up at him in surprise, the man continues "There's only been a few cases of an amnesiac vampire regaining their memories, but it takes a very powerful memory. Most of 'em never got to experience a strong enough memory in their human lives, so they never remember."

"Is it…" he pauses "..normal for a vampire to lose their memories then?"

"Uhh…" Dante hesitates as he seems to contemplate this, looking down at his wounds as he begins to softly brush the dried flakes away "yes and no. Not for your species - or at least I didn't think so. Not very many hunters can have a nice sit-down talk with a vampire about what they do and don't remember, y'know."

"Is that why you've been having me help you with all this Order stuff?" 

"I was hoping it'd be enough to spur something in you, yeah."

"Then you think I'm connected to the Order somehow?"

"I know you are." To this, Nero scoffs. 

"How could you know something like that? I've been dead for four hundred-some years. Nobody I could've known is alive to tell you and you would've had to of known this soon after you caught me, if not before." narrowing his eyes in suspicion at the man, Nero continues "Just what benefit are you planning to get from my memories?"

"Look," Dante sighs, his expression quickly growing exhausted as he continues tediously cleaning himself, though Nero notices he's only cleaning the edges of his wounds "I know you've got a lot of questions, and I promise, they'll get answered soon enough. But you're tired and I'm tired. Just get some rest for now and I'll get you a snack in the morning. We'll talk then, alright?" His automatic reaction compels him to aggressively prod for more information, information he has a right to know, but he stops short of doing so. Nodding understandably, recognizing he _is_ pretty tired, he decides to leave well enough alone for now. 

"Just answer one thing for me." Nero looks to him, though the man is still too engrossed with mending himself "If I hadn't remembered anything on that island, what would you have done with me? What were you going to do originally after finding me?"

"Uhh…" Dante trails off as he visibly hesitates.

"I need to know who I can trust." 

Slowly, he looks up at the demon, though he says nothing at first. Sighing heavily, his expression relaxes before speaking.

"I wasn't going to kill you. Not directly. I was going to leave you there. I went back after making sure Trish was safely on the boat just to make sure you hadn't remembered anything. But if nothing seemed different, then… I was going to leave." 

"I could've swam to shore though."

"Have you ever gone swimming?" Dante says with a chortle.

"Well, uh… no, actually. I don't think so, but the concept is simple enough." he responds neutrally, not seeing a flaw in his logic.

"That's because most vampires can't swim. No body fat, you'll sink the moment the water gets too deep. I guess theoretically you could just walk along the bottom and eventually come up to the shore, but your kind has to take in a breath every minute or so. You'd drown long before you ever got to the mainland." Nodding slowly as he ponders over his words for a moment or two, Nero looks back up to him as he replies simply.

"Thank you." 

_I can trust him to be truthful, I guess._

\---------------------------------

Shivering himself awake, he curls tightly into the thin blanket covering him. He tries to ignore the bone-chilling cold of the basement, fighting it unfruitfully for several minutes. Exhaling loudly, he tosses the blanket aside irritably as he sits up. His head feels numb, making him feel oddly distant with his own body. His eyes, though just as incapable of producing body heat as the rest of him, feel as though they're on fire.

 _It's starting. I need to eat._ Looking around the basement as he scratches his head, the aches from before having finally subsided into a dull soreness, he then stands up from the old bed. Cringing from the cold stone floor hitting his feet, he shuffles towards the staircase with his arms wrapping around himself, as if that'll warm him up. 

_I hope it's morning already._

His body stiff, he manages to make it up the stairs with some difficulty. Peering around the corner, his eyes light up at the sight before him - three beautiful bags of red nutrition sitting patiently for him on Dante's desk, neatly stacked one on top of the other. As quick as his chilled body will allow him to go, he makes a hasty beeline for the desk. Reaching out as he nears, his fingers mere inches away from the one thing he desperately needs-

"Don't you dare eat that while I'm here, bloodsucker." a familiar voice interrupts him. Stopping his movements, he looks over to the door, the source of the noise. There, closing the door behind herself, stands the same black-haired woman from before. Staring at him intensely, he can only return her eye contact with neutral confusion. He's never laid a finger on her, in fact _she's_ the one who shot him, and yet she acts as though his mere existence is offensive to her. Glancing back down at the blood bags with desire, he sighs heavily as he returns his arms to his side, staring at them longingly. He doesn't like or respect this woman any more than she does him, but obviously she's of some importance to Dante, otherwise she wouldn't keep appearing. 

Looking back to her with annoyance, he watches her cautiously approach him, though he does nothing to suggest she's in any amount of danger. Stopping a good few feet away from him, he realizes she probably doesn't realize he's so cold and hungry that his movements have slowed _below_ human reaction times. She would be able to see him trying to attack her long before he could even reach his arms up. _Brave of her to come so close, given she doesn't know I can't move well._

"Look at you." she says with a self-satisfied, mocking chuckle as she eyes him up and down "You finally look like the monster you are."

He knows she's right. He has the vague appearance of a human, yes, with a humanoid-figure, hair, and so forth. But his permanently elongate arms, fingernails, abnormal inhuman teeth, white skin starkly contrasting his most certainly maroon irises - they all very obviously display his secret for all to see. Maintaining eye contact with her the entire time, he only breaks it when he sees her handing an object he hasn't previously noticed towards him. Glancing down, he realizes it's a book - no ordinary book either. The cover is elaborately designed in gold and silver-colored threads, but it showcases no title. Not even an author is named. Dulled slightly by age, it still looks remarkably well-preserved, given its assumed age. It must be some few thousand pages too, given the sheer size of it. 

"Dante told me to get this for him. Says it's got parts in it about you."

Reaching towards it curiously, being mindful to not extend his hand towards her own, he grabs the book gently - only to immediately drop it to the floor as he reflexively pulls his hand to his chest, gripping his singed, smoking hand with his deformed hand as he groans from the pain, teeth gritting together as his eyes seal shut.

"Is that real silver threads?" he manages to groan out as he hears her pick the book up off of the ground quickly.

"Well yeah, what's that-" she interrupts herself "oh, right. You're a vampire. You can't touch silver. Oops." He doesn't have to see the smug smirk on her face to know it's there. The patronizing, fake-pity in her voice says it all. "My mistake." Grumbling as the pain subsides enough for him to crack open his eyes again, he looks at his fingers. His skin remains a burnt brown, given he has no blood to regenerate, as the last wisps of smoke dissipate. Glaring over at the sadistic woman as she places the book on Dante's desk, safely away from him, he finds it hard to keep the many words he has for her to himself. She's lucky he respects Dante enough to not retaliate. "Don't get blood on my book." she mumbles, her intense glare shifting to one of disgust as she turns away from him, back towards where she came. Watching her for a moment, just to make sure she's actually going to leave, he looks back down at the book with intrigue as he rubs at his pained hand.

_This huge book has me in it? How much about me?_

He ponders over this momentarily, long enough to hear the woman leave the shop, before turning his attention back to his food. He wants to know more about himself, but his stomach outweighs his mind. He knows his nose must be lying to him, yet he feels he can smell the scent of iron coming off the thick plastic bags. Reaching his hand towards them once more, he can feel his mouth beginning to salivate at just the thought of finally having something to eat. His hands shake vigorously with anticipation as they draw nearer.

_Something's not right._

His hands stop their movement. Furrowing his eyebrows, he glances around the room. He can feel eyes boring into him, though he cannot feel a nearby presence. Not surprising - his senses have become incredibly dull with hunger. He knows he's safe within the walls of the shop, but feeding leaves a vampire vulnerable to attack. Feeding while enemies are near goes against his basic survival instincts. He, of course, is not bound to these instincts, but it would certainly make his meal more enjoyable if he's not on the verge of an anxiety attack. Turning around to face the door, he cautiously scans the area. 

_I must be overreacting._

He tells himself this, yet feels compelled to approach the large paned window beside the door. There's no harm in double-checking, just to be safe. Peeling back the old, dusty curtains just barely enough to see outside with one eye, he looks over every building, every alley - anything he can see from this vantage point. It appears the sun rose about an hour ago - long enough to provide adequate light, but certainly too recent to keep the other vampires at bay. There appears to be nothing more than a stray dog rifling through an overturned trashcan at the corner of the street, with Lady approaching it. Turning away as he makes to return to Dante's desk, he stops once more as the distant sound of a woman's shrill, frightened screams echo into the shop. 

_Shit._

Without haste, he rushes to the doorway. Throwing open the double doors as he exits, he hesitates at the top of the stairs. Reluctant to completely leave the safe, comfortable warmth of the shop, the cold, harsh breeze hitting his skin unhindered, he first scans the area to see if he can even see her.

 _I don't see her…_ he realizes as he darts his eyes around the area. He goes to leave the stairs for the sidewalk below anyways, before retracting his steps soon after. _No… I can't do this. He said to stay here. I could burn long before I find her._

But he can't just ignore If she dies. If Dante finds out that he saw her in danger and willingly let her get attacked, he'll have his head for sure. 

_Maybe it wasn't even her._

Looking up to the rooftops once more, he notes that the area seems barren. It's hard to say for certain - the wind is forcing him to squint his eyes, restricting his vision further - but there seems to be nothing worthy of note anywhere near him.

 _She's probably a hunter as well, right? I know she has a gun on her, at least._ he reasons with himself, trying to talk himself out of feeling compelled to ensure the area is clear. Centuries of territorial pack instinct is hard to overcome, after all. His job meant he would mostly be alone, but on the occasion he would be around his pack-kin, it's well understood they're supposed to look after one another. _She's fine, I'm sure those screams were someone else's, or maybe even just the wind. She knows these streets better than I do I'm sure, she can keep herself safe. I'm not exactly in any shape to fight anyways…_

Yet, he remains standing there at the doorway. Constantly scanning, constantly listening. Hearing no other suspicious noises after several quiet moments, minus the sounds of car horns and barking dogs, he decides it best to return to the safety within the shop's walls. No point in sticking around, waiting for the sun to turn him into ash.

Before he can turn more than a few degrees, he is harshly shoved against the brick wall of the shop, his head knocking against the solid barrier as a searing pain in the shoulder of his right arm radiates through the rest of his body. Screaming uncontrollably, eyes reflexively seal shut as he presses the side of his face against the concrete. He tries to reach his right arm up to feel the injured area, only to find the entire limb is unresponsive as it hangs uselessly limp. Choking down his cries of pain, the muscles across his body beginning to shiver without restraint, he manages to squeeze open his eyelids as his left arm helplessly grasps at a long, cold metal rod protruding from the wound of his other shoulder. Panicking, he tries to remove the pole from his body, pulling the object as hard as he can with his only useable arm. He pulls, but the rod stays firmly in place, pinning him to the wall like a trapped animal. He's not getting out by himself. Clutching the metal tightly, as if that'll make the pain subside, he sees both Dante and Lady frantically running up the street, towards him as his vison begins to blur.

_I feel dizzy…_

Catching movement at the top of his vision, he looks up to the rooftops, spotting the perpetrator immediately. There, standing at the corner of the roof of a nearby building, she stands with no care to remain hidden. A vampire from the pack, no doubt, though he doesn't recognize her. Not surprising, he may have turned them, but there's been far too many for him to remember each one. She mocks him with a smirk on her face, staring directly at the injured demon, watching him struggle to free himself with pleasure. He sees her glance to the two humans approaching him, her confidence replaced with fright before making a quick getaway. Though, they never even knew she was there to begin with. As he begins struggling to hold up his own head, he looks back down at his wound, immediately feeling sick and faint from the simple movement. 

_Not a drop of blood left in me._ he muses to himself as he observes his impossibly clean puncture. If there wasn't a huge pole sticking out of him, you would never know he's hurt. Squinting, he watches as the damaged skin around the pole begins to change color. Changing from white, to pink, to red…

 _I'm hallucinating… I'm dying._ he sadly notes as he observes his skin settling on a baby blue coloration. He doesn't fear death, but to be beaten by some nobody, after centuries of being the best… it's a shit way to go.

He watches as it spreads; slowly at first, but as it gains more ground across his body, it's speed increases. Reaching his chest, it's color darkens to a deep blue, his skin thickening as he reaches a horrifying realization. He hears Dante and Lady come up beside him, he feels what's probably Dante's large hand harshly grabbing onto his other shoulder as he feels the pole wiggling in his arm, sending new, but dulled, pains across his body. He ignores their words, though he can't really hear them anyways, as he tries to smack their hands away from the pole. It's in their best interest to keep him pinned as long as possible now. His respiration, deep and labored, has increased to near-human levels as his sight begins to sharpen. Turning his head to look at Dante, he sees him desperately and unsuccessfully trying to free him from the rod.

"You need to kill me." he says calmly, brows creasing with worry as his teeth shift about in his jaws.

"What?" the hunter questions, only momentarily stopping his efforts before quickly returning "For a wound? You'll be fine, I just need to-" "- _You need to kill me._ " Nero pleads with him.

"Just because-" he irritably begins, but the woman interrupts.

"Dante, look at him." His annoyed, nearly angry expression quickly melts to one of bewilderment the moment he takes note of his appearance.

"You didn't drink the blood I got you, did you?" he asks as he lets go of his grip on the pole.

Sighing heavily with resignation, he tries to speak, but his voice remains quiet. Closing his eyes as he tilts his head down, slightly shaking it side to side to indicate his response, he can feel his entire being beginning to change at an alarmingly rapid rate. He hopes to feel a pain in his head, or neck - or anywhere that would indicate his death is near. But the hunters seem to be hesitating in killing him. His consciousness beginning to slip out of his fragile grasp, he forces himself to put the last of his willing energy into his voice.

"I'm sorry."

\---------------------------------

"Get Trish." 

"But she-" " _get Trish._ " he commands as he cautiously backs up several yards from the metamorphosizing demon. 

Gripping at the hilt of Rebellion, he watches Nero's rapidly changing figure as he hears the clicking of Lady's boots running away from them. The demon's skin, protectively thickening, appears to begin glowing blue under his clothes in certain areas of his body, predominately in his arms and chest. His hair, once only long enough to cover his ears, now reaches down well into his shoulders. Even his body size and height enlarge as his face, still somewhat human-looking, becomes unrecognizable. His clothes, unable to hold back his growing flesh, begin ripping, eventually falling off to the ground as his body finally reaches a point of stasis. 

_Just need to stall him long enough…_

He's not going to attack first. By waiting for him to make the first move, he'll be buying himself some time. Time that he desperately needs - few creatures are more dangerous than a fresh Bloodluster. They feel no pain, no mercy, no exhaustion, and will not rest until they've slaughtered enough humans to engorge themselves. He's dealt with them before, though only after they've been reported to him, when they've already destroyed whole cities and usually have already begun returning to their normal states. Dealing with a newly triggered Bloodluster in the middle of a large city is an impossible feat, no doubt, given he has no intentions of killing the poor soul. Watching the previously unmoving vampire beginning to stretch his body out - moving his fingers, rolling his head side to side, curling and uncurling his toes - the process must be complete now. He's getting used to his new form, testing out his muscles and strength. It's only a matter of time before he attacks. Standing in tense silence, it takes only a few more moments before the demon expressionlessly lifts his head up just enough to stare directly at him. Hiding ominously behind his bangs, his deep red irises have shifted into a piercing yellow, his pupils having slimmed down to mere slits.

Removing Rebellion from his back, placing its tip on the ground in front of him in a readied position, the demon makes no move to attack. He only repositions his grip on the pole pinning him to the wall, apparently carefully watching the hunter before him as his labored breathing rhythmically moves his entire body.

 _He's not attacking._ Dante furrows his eyebrows _Is he… thinking about what to do?_

Bloodlusters don't think when triggered. They have no reasoning. No logic. No tactic. They attack, kill, feed, repeat. Plain and simple. Yet, this one is choosing to only stare at him. His strength is greater than even his best in his detriggered form, surely the pole isn't strong enough to still be holding him back. If he so desired, Dante knows he could easily rip it out as if it were no different than a splinter. Perhaps this is how a newly triggered Bloodluster acts - unresponsive until supplied with a significant enough stimulus, or rather, enough humans.

"Nero?" he quietly calls, unsure if a loud volume will set him off. But there is no response - he only watches.

Allowing a few more moments to pass, he decides to take one tentative step towards the beast. Seeing the demon's eyes immediately flicker down to his foot, letting out a deep, guttural growl as he looks back up at Dante, he realizes too late that he's made an entirely wrong decision. His first concern is, once free, the Bloodluster will immediately begin attacking the city's population, giving no attention to the hunter's efforts to stop him. Seeing him effortlessly pull the rod from his shoulder, the limb having now regained its mobility, all while making heavy eye contact with him puts that fear to rest however. He seems to have an interest in only him - likely because he's the only visible living being in the area, and, therefore, the only source of food. As the demon approaches, taking one slow, heavy step at a time, Dante backs up at the same pace, delaying the inevitable. He can't do this forever though, he'll just be leading him down the street towards innocent civilians. 

"Listen, I don't want to fight-" he's interrupted by the distant sound of a lone, lengthy wolf's howl, causing the both of them to simultaneously snap their attention to its origin - the woodlands some distance behind the shop, where the werewolf pack lives.

Wolves have been extinct in the area for centuries now, but the werewolf - it's howl practically indistinguishable from the gray wolf's - is still very much alive, making their identification easy. A pack of strong werewolves can take down a Bloodluster - difficult, but still possible - but a solitary one is no match without the aid of a full moon.

Hearing the demon answer the werewolf's howl with a deep, guttural cry of his own, likely a warning to back off, he returns his attention back to the beast just as it does so to him. Mouth open, exposing his razor-sharp, overgrown misshapen teeth to him, the demon bolts towards him like a rabid dog as Dante pulls one of his trusty guns from her holster. Down on all fours, snarling as he approaches the human, he clearly ignores the barrage of bullets being shot at him by Ebony - none intended to be fatal, only wound - not even flinching as each new hole is torn into his ragged body as each one heals just as quickly as they appear. Ditching his lead-based effort, he reholsters as he makes to run to the left, his attacker coming far too close for comfort - only to switch directions at the last moment and dodge to the right as he hitches Rebellion to his back.

 _I need to lead him out of the city._

Right now, his greatest strength is his agility and cunning. Their large, overencumbered bodies make for slow reactions times while their minds - clouded with hunger - are no better than a Neanderthal's. But for what they lack in intelligence and reflexes, they make up for in strength and determination. Knowing he has a second or two to spare as the demon, realizing he's been duped, changes his course towards him, Dante automatically bolts towards the emergency exit stairwell on the exterior of the stop. He hears him, enraged at being outsmarted, growling with frustration before hearing his thundering footsteps rapidly closing in on the stairwell. His footsteps pause as the stairwell shakes, slightly at first before becoming violent. He must be trying to climb them like he did, but given his much larger frame, he can't possibly fit. Zigzagging up to the top, he can hear the creaks of metal straining as it becomes clear the vampire is trying to tear the stairwell off - with him in it - but Dante doesn't waste the time to look down and confirm this suspicion. 

Putting one hand on the rim of the rooftop, he hears the bricks holding the stairwell in place give out as the stairwell is ripped out from under him. Quickly gripping onto the roof with his other hand as well before his body weight can pull him down, he only briefly looks down at him, enough to see him tossing the stairwell aside on the ground as if it were no heavier than a book. Groaning, he pulls himself up onto the roof, quickly moving to stand on his feet as he watches the demon below. He has to make sure he's going to follow. For a moment, it seems he has no interest in following the hunter up, but this is quickly proven wrong as he crouches down into a jump-ready position. He can't make a two-story high jump straight into the air, but he can jump one-story and climb the rest. Taking this as a queue to keep running, Dante rotates around to the opposite direction as he runs towards the other end of the rooftop. He hears the crunching of the shop's wall's bricks, likely crumbling under the heavy beast's grip, wincing with each snap of stone.

"You're gonna pay for that, kid!" he shouts out to him as he jumps to the next rooftop - a simple three foot jump. Small enough for him to jump over but large enough to bargain some time with. He hears his poor roof, straining to hold so much weigh in one spot, creaking as the stones shift out of place with each of the Bloodluster's steps.

"And I mean that literally - you're gonna have to start earning your keep around here!"

Skidding to a stop as he hears his footsteps coming dangerously close, he bolts in the opposite direction - directly towards the vampire - sliding right under the demon feet-first as he launches at where the hunter used to be standing. Jumping back onto his shop's roof, he makes it to the building behind his's roof without further incident. He jumps to the next roof, then the next, then another before realizing he hasn't been hearing the loud footsteps behind him anymore. Suddenly stopping, he quickly scans the rooftops.

 _Shit._

He's nowhere in sight. He must've spotted someone in the streets below. Unholstering Rebellion, he quickly begins darting around the rooftops. He hasn't heard any screams, so he probably hasn't attacked anyone - not yet at least. Stopping for a brief moment to scan the area again, he feels it long before he sees it happening. As his sword flies out of his hand - the sheer force of the tackle knocking it from his grip - he becomes airborne for a solid few seconds, horizontally gliding above the roof's surface with a cold, long, scaled arm wrapping around his torso, holding him against his armored body as they both fly through the air from the momentum of the collision. 

_He ambushed me?_

He tries to fight him off, managing to grab out Ivory and land a few solid bullets in him, but his attacker pays them no more attention than he had before as he lands on his feet, holding his prisoner with one arm. His strength is far, far greater than his now - there's no escaping his iron-clad grip. The demon only holds him for a few moments, pinning him to his scaly side with Dante's feet kicking and dragging against the stone roof as he uselessly tries to free himself, before harshly flinging him off the two-story building. With barely enough time, he manages to cover his head with his right arm, knowing impact is inevitable. Head-first, he collides with the wall of the adjacent building, rendering him unconscious. 

Coming to just a few moments later, dazed and confused, but still alive, he finds himself on his stomach in a mangled heap of his own limbs on the cold cement of the cracked sidewalk. Managing to twist himself onto his back, he quickly finds his right arm to be obviously broken - the fractured ulna is sticking out of his forearm as a stream of red begins to drip down - but he doesn't feel the debilitating agony he should be feeling right now as adrenaline pumps through him. 

Feeling cold liquid running down his neck, he grasps at his wet hair weakly with his functional arm. Observing the red substance covering his shaking palm, he lets it fall limply to the ground as he attempts to push himself onto his back. Groaning as he manages to prop himself up onto his elbow, he feels the ground reverberate as the demons lands behind him, the sidewalk audibly cracking from his great weight. His vision beginning to swirl from his attempts to move, he collapses down onto his back haphazardly, unable to properly sit up while the world is spinning so rapidly around him. Closing his eyes, as the vertigo is nauseating, he feels cold and inhuman hands grip him tightly. Grabbing his arms at first to pull Dante onto his side on the ground, one of the hands moves to his increasingly throbbing head, talons digging deeply into his scalp to hold him in place without actually puncturing him. It's not to spare Dante from unnecessary pain - it's to keep him from bleeding more.

_Damn it, Trish… where the hell are you?_

Lifting his fractured arm in a useless attempt to push the vampire away - as the other is pinned to the ground - he's harshly put back in his place with a quick smack as the shock of pain from the wavering adrenaline radiates through his body, stunning him into complying. He can do little else but grit his teeth as the other drills razor-sharp teeth into his exposed neck, gasping as his ability to breathe becomes more and more difficult as he becomes aware of his broken ribs. As he feels himself becoming rapidly colder, his already injured head being deprived of the blood it needs, he finds himself fading in and out of reality. A howl in the fading distance, he feels the pressure on his neck being removed suddenly. He tries to pry open his eyes, but his mind denies him this, turning to darkness as the world disappears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Slowly shaking his head side-to-side, he groans lowly as his foggy mind starts to clear. Attempting to move his right hand to rub his eyes, he finds himself unable to move it. Switching to his left hand, he finds the same predicament in this limb too. Wiggling both hands, he looks to his side with furrowed eyebrows.

_Cuffs?_

He sees excessively thick steel wrapping around his wrist, pinning him down firmly to the surface below. Looking to his other side, he confirms his other wrist is similarly restrained, the underside of his arms facing up. 

_I'm on my back…_

Observing the billowy surface he's lying on, he comes to another conclusion.

 _And… I'm in a bed?_

Lifting his head weakly, there's a slight tremble in his neck. His legs are pinned by the ankles too, splayed apart in the same way his wrists are. He recognizes the metal-framed footrest at the end of the bed.

_No, not just any bed, I'm in my bed…_

"Well would ya look at that, sleeping beauty is awake again." A somewhat familiar, masculine voice calls. Glancing over, he sees a man dressed in red sitting in a chair across the room, flipping through a magazine casually with legs crossed. Momentarily, he doesn't recognize the figure, his grasp on reality still weak. "Good thing too. I was beginning to worry I'd have to find Prince Charming."

Temporarily ignoring Dante as he tries to understand his surroundings, he scans over his body from the ankles up. Noticing his nude form, save for a single, thin sheet neatly laid over his nether regions and the insignia ring on his finger, his confusion only deepens. Looking back to him, his expression reflecting just how bewildered he is, he watches as Dante makes his way over to him. Intently focused on the magazine as he stands beside him, seemingly bored as he continues to read through the pages.

"I need you to answer a few questions, got it?" he asks rhetorically, immediately moving on without giving him the chance to answer "First off, where are you right now?"

Opening his mouth to speak, the momentarily considers the question, before slowly shutting his mouth again as he looks around the room.

"Do you understand where you're at?" he re-asks.

"Why.." he swallows hard, finding his dry, raw throat difficult to talk with "why am I here?"

"I need you to answer the question."

"Why do I need to-" "This is the third time you've woken up, I gotta make sure you're actually all there before we untie you."

"I'm, um…" he looks around one more time, just to confirm to himself "I'm in the basement. Uh, of your shop… where I usually sleep." he adds more details as he remembers them.

"And what's your name?"

"Nero." he redirects his attention back to the human, finding that he's still reading, unconcerned with the situation.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"I remember…" he crinkles his face as he thinks "…being stuck to a wall. Outside of the building, to the wall I think. Um, with a pole.." he looks over to the shoulder that was impaled for a moment "in that shoulder." For the first time, he sees Dante actually down at him, still holding up his magazine.

"Is that all you remember?"

"Umm… I believe so. There's bits and pieces of other things, that I assume happened after, but…" he shakes his head no lightly "I can't really put them together." Nodding with visible contemplation, he looks back to his magazine once again, flipping to the next page. Raising an eyebrow, his confusion now lies with Dante's behavior.

"….Will you let me out now?" he squirms as he feels the increasing need to cover himself as his brain begins to function normally again.

"In a minute."

"Okay…" Waiting for a few moments, awkwardly glancing around the room in the meantime as Dante just stands there, he looks to him once more. "Could you not just stand there then?"

"Hm?" Dante hums.

"You're making me uncomfortable."

"Oh, why's that?"

"Uh, because I'm unwillingly tied to a bed, in a vulnerable position, and you're just standing over me." his tone now irritable as he continues "Oh, and I'm naked. Do I need to continue?" Exhaling a chuckle with a small smirk on his lips as he reads, he nods understandably as he steps back a few paces. 

"Can… can you _please_ let me out now?" he says after allowing a few more seconds to pass.

"Oh c'mon Dante, let the poor guy out." a wispy female voice sympathetically says. Snapping his head towards the voice, he can see Trish standing up from the bottom of the staircase, having apparently been sitting there the whole time. With a chuff, Dante glances back to her for a moment.

"You wanna let him loose too early and get bit? 'Cause I'm not getting bit again."

"I bit you?" Sharply looking over to him, Dante lingers his gaze on him before returning to his magazine.

"Yeah, in the bathroom. When we were washing off your arm that one time. Remember?"

"Oh…" he realizes "Yes. I remember that."

"See, he's fine. Stop making him beg to be freed-" "I wouldn't call it begging…" "-and just let him go."

"Alright, alright." he closes the magazine, tossing it to the floor beside himself as he looks back at Trish "Go get the tools, will ya?" Crossing her arms with a nod, she disappears up the stairs. They both watch her leave before Nero turns his attention to the human, noticing in his periphery that Dante has shifted his gaze to him, arms crossing as he waits for Trish's return. He looks to each side of the room, uncomfortable from the awkward silence, before speaking again.

"…Can I get a blanket?" he questions "Or… anything to cover myself better…"

"You tore up just about everything I had, sheets are all I got left."

"Oh, uh… sorry. I, um-" "-no, no it's fine." Dante says with a wave of his hand "Probably all needed to be replaced anyways. After you went back to normal, you’d wake up every now and then and act normal, then flip out suddenly. Rip up everything in sight and try to attack us. We learned after the first time to just keep you locked up until you had a good enough grasp on reality."

"I didn't…" Nero pauses, averting his gaze as he feels an imaginary heavy weight beginning to set on him. 

_I feel… sad? Or… guilty? I think?_

"Really, it's fine. You weren't all 'super strength' at that point anymore, so we were able to mostly get you pinned down again just using our body weight." Nodding at first understandably, his brows furrow as he comes to a realization.

"You… used your bodies to tie me back down…?"

"Yeah." he doesn't seem to be phased by this at first, before his change of expression shows he's made the same connection as Nero "Oh, um… Well, nothing touched me at least. Can't say the same for Trish though." he smirks.

"Ugh…" he groans loudly as he closes his eyes, doing the only thing he can to hide from the embarrassment.

"Could've been worse." he says with a light chuckle.

"Oh, right, yeah. Everything about this whole situation is just dandy. I just love going into bloodlust, it's not at all painful to morph into a completely differently form, or not having control over my own body, or, oh yeah, exposing my entire body to everyone-" "-well, I mean, I didn't exactly make eye contact with your-" "-oh right, you expect me to believe that?" he questions harshly as he opens his eyes.

"But I didn't." He seems genuine enough as Nero holds eye contact with him. "I mean, I saw, you know, general, uh… shapes, but I didn't make eye contact or anything." Sighing, he drops his gaze momentarily, softening his expression.

_I should be grateful._

"I shouldn't be getting mad." he voices his thoughts aloud "It would've been easier to just to kill me. I don't know how or why I'm alive, but I know that you could've just killed me."

"Ah, it's fine." Dante reassures as the clicks of Trish's heels descend down the stairs "I'd be on edge if I were you too."

"Still… I shouldn't…" he trails off, closing his eyes and leaning his head back against the mattress, exhaling loudly as he hears Trish approaching.

"You get his ankles, I'll take the wrists." 

"You got it." she says cheerily as Nero hears them moving around him, prompting him to open his eyes again. He catches only a glimpse of a gold-colored object before it becomes engulfed in Dante's hand.

"You see, the first time you woke up, we let you out of the chains we had you in. When it was obvious you still weren't all there yet, we put you back in. Second time around, you actually broke through the chains. They were old, kinda expected it, but it was still a surprise." he sees Dante shrugs nonchalantly as he hunches over him, presumably putting what he assumes is a key into the other side of his right wrist's cuff, out of his field of vision "Luckily, I found these cuffs in one of the boxes down here. Kinda tore up your bed getting them to fit right, but they worked."

"So you just had cuffs lying around?" Nero questions as the pressure on his right wrist is relieved with the sound of metal popping open, soon followed by his right ankle.

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answer to." his tone isn't particularly innuendo-like, but Nero takes his advice either way.

When the last cuff pops off his left wrist, slowly, as his muscles seem reluctantly compliant, he props himself. Aware that his backside will soon be exposed for all to see, he pulls the extra areas of the sheet around his waist, keeping himself as modestly covered as possible. Wishing he could just curl up and pull himself away into his own comfortable, warm world, rather than this cold and dank basement, naked and uncertain, he averts his gaze from them both as he rests his arms onto his folded up knees. Digging his chin deeply into his arms, he patiently waits for their departure. He can't exactly tell them to leave, after all. Not after all they've done for him. He hears the movement stop for some seconds, though he knows they're still there. He can feel them watching.

"We'll let you rest." the woman says softly, her heel clicking away immediately after. Lingering for a few moments, heavy boots can be heard following after her. Listening to the sound of their steps dissipating, he feels a sting of panic hitting him unexpectedly. 

"Dante." he hears the boots stop, though the clicks continue upwards "Hold on." Waiting until he hears the clank of the door closing before continuing, Dante's footsteps come a little closer to him in the meantime "Did… did I, you know…" he hesitates "…kill any humans?" 

"No." his reply comes with a loud exhale. 

"Then how am I still alive?" he closes his eyes "You don't snap out of a bloodlust without…" he stops.

"Well, I mean, we gave you a ton of those old blood bags I told you about before, a couple dozen chickens or so, a pig at one point… but no humans."

"You tossed live animals down here?" Nero looks to him with an eyebrow raised.

He's never had animal's blood before - usually it makes them sick, as their bodies are only capable of digesting human blood - but desperate times cause for desperate measures.

"Yeah… don't look too closely around here."

"Ugh…" he groans, burying his face into his arms with shame.

_Disgusting… Nothing dignified in a bloodlusting vampire…_

"Hey," Dante interrupts his thoughts, prompting him to lift his head enough to glance towards him "you can stay in my room, if you want."

"No thanks." first rolling his eyes, he reburies his face, attempting to ignore that he's even here now.

"You'd rather stay in the cold, gross basement? In a broken bed?"

"Just please get me some clothes." 

Though he mutters this, Dante seems to understand, quickly taking his leave of the basement without another word, only to return a few minutes later. 

"Here." Though he heard his approaching footsteps, Dante's voice still startles him. He had grown accustomed to the silence of the basement. Looking over to him with heavy eyes, he sees the articles of clothing in his hand he has extending towards him. "Sorry, it's all I have left. The rest are in the wash." 

Grabbing the clothes from him, looking them over carefully, he sees they must've been some sort of pajamas Dante used to wear, as their dark colorations have dulled from time and usage. Awkwardly glancing up at him with a shifting gaze, he quickly looks away again as he holds the clothes against himself, becoming uncomfortable once more.

"Could you turn around?"

"Oh, right." Dante seems to of not realized he's just standing there, idly watching him, despite him obviously wanting to dress himself and therefore have to remove his protective sheet. As the man turns away, walking away a few paces from him, Nero shakes his head in exasperation at the human's complete lack of situational awareness.

 _Cut him some slack._ his own mind berates him as he turns his attention to clothing himself _He's tired. Tired from taking care of me, no less._

Slipping on the loose-fitting shirt, he finds the sensation of proper clothing against his skin comforting, as if he's more protected now. Skeptically, he looks over the sweatpants before eyeing Dante's back, just to make sure he's still looking away. Swinging his legs off the bed, he clutches at the sheets to keep his lower half covered, all while constantly watching him. Standing there for a moment or two, only seeing Dante cross his arms, he decides it's safe, quickly dropping the sheet as he scrambles to put the pants on. 

"Are you sure you don't want to stay in my room?" 

"I'm dressed, Dante. Stop hitting on me." he irritably grumbles out as he tightens the drawstring around his waist. This evokes a laugh from the other.

"I'm not hitting on you." he says with a hint of surprise to his tone, turning around as he speaks "I meant I'd stay on the couch."

"Oh." Nero drops his aggravated attitude, feeling a bit stupid now "Um…" he looks around the basement, noting how barren the room is, save for his bed, which, he now sees has large holes in the mattress, with several bends and fractures in the frame itself. There's unidentified bits and pieces of… things lying along the edges of the walls, presumably bits of various carcasses, as well as a familiar stench slowly intensifying in his nose as his senses become more self-aware. He doesn't get the same enjoyment of being surrounded by death like some of his counterparts do, his preference has always been for a fairly clean environment.

_I can't be picky. He's done enough for me._

"No, I'm ok." he inevitably insists as he looks to him. Dante's expression, however, shows his disbelief, as he must've seen the disgust on his face as he scanned the room. 

"C'mon," Dante waves him on as he walks towards the stairs "it's really no big deal. It's getting close to morning, I'm just gonna take a nap and I don't use my room during the day anyways."

He's uncertain, but as he makes a final glance around, he ultimately decides to follow behind. The prospect of sleeping in a room littered with literal dead bodies is hardly desirable.

"Is, uh, your bed clean?" he asks as they climb up to ground level, questioning himself on whether or not he even wants to know. He sees Dante glance back to give him a smug look before responding simply.

"Yes." 

Making it to the top in silence, he wonders if perhaps he offended the human.

"I didn't mean to imply anything." he sheepishly tries to apologize. He's in his debt, after all. "Humans are just, uh… kinda, um… well. Gross." 

Seeing Dante look back to him with a raised eyebrow, remaining silent, he quickly tries to explain himself. 

"I mean, not, you know, gross.. It's just…" he sighs, agitated at his own inability to communicate what he means properly. His mind still isn't quite fully operational. "…you sweat, and, have dead skin and hair always falling off… bacteria grows on your skin… and.. uh.. you have… fluids…." he looks up to watch Dante's back, seeing no change in him as they climb up to his room. "Please don't kick me out." he whispers as he looks to the floor, receiving an immediate, reassuring loud laugh from him.

"I'm just having fun listening to you fumble." he has a light tone to his voice as they reach the top. 

Keeping his gaze downcast, he can see the bottom of the door to his room swing open, though Dante stays outside. Looking up to him, he sees him smirking, with one arm gesturing him to step inside. His face must be betraying him with some expression though, as Dante soon sighs and drops his own more cheerful look for a somber, sympathetic one.

"You'll feel better when you get a good nig-.. Day's rest. Okay? You're going to be fine."

Nodding as he looks to the floor again, he shuffles into his room, only looking up to observe the room. It looks…. Impossibly clean, for someone who keeps his shop as dirty as Dante. There's the usual arrangement of furniture - a dresser, nightstands with a lamp on one, clock on the other, a standing mirror, a rather large looking bed with a wooden frame…

"Told you it'd be clean." Dante speaks as Nero notes the only thing indicative of him even living here are the disheveled red sheets and comforter "I really only use my room for sleeping and se-… special occasions." 

He chooses to simply roll his eyes at his very poor correction, since he can't see him do so, before cautiously walking around the room. He's feeling the heavy effects of fatigue setting in as his head clears, but he doesn't feel comfortable with climbing right into something as personal as someone's place of sleep as they stand in the doorway. Walking past the dresser, he runs his hand over its top, feeling its surface as he does.

_Real wood. Uncommon these days._

"Just, uh… don't go poking around in here, alright?"

"Wouldn't dream of it." he automatically replies without thinking too much about his words, turning his attention to him as he crosses his arms. Smirking at him, Dante stands in silence for a moment with a thoughtful expression before going to close the door.

"G'night, kid."

With the click of the doorknob, Dante leaves him in the darkness. Alone in unfamiliar surroundings, he feels uncertainty pulling at him. Uncertain of what is unclear, but the desire to curl up and hide in a deep hole, far from everyone and everything, is just as intense as it was when he was naked and vulnerable. He has no hole to crawl into, no protection from the outside world, but at least he can hide within the bed and pretend Dante's right. Somehow, he's going to be fine. 

\---------------------------------

Tightly curled up on his side, the maroon comforter wraps snuggly around his modest frame to his neck. Though it gave off a repugnant combination of what smells to be a faint hint of inhuman blood, floral detergent - Trish's most likely -, and Dante's naturally human scent of slight musk, his nose became accustomed to the odd mixture some time ago. But though his body rests comfortably, he can't stave off the impulsive thoughts keeping his mind awake. _I don't know what I am anymore. Or who I am. Better yet, who was I? What is it about me that Dante knows? Why has he been so accommodating, at his own personal risk? Why is he trying so hard to help me? There must be something he's getting out of this - but what?_ It's unknown to him how long he's been lying here, barely changing position, but he knows it's had to of been at least a few hours. He can hear the clicking of Trish's heels walking past outside the door on occasion, sometimes even hesitating at the door before moving on. But not once has he heard the heavy-footed, boot-clad steps that he's become familiar with. 

He wants to talk to him. Well, maybe not want - he has no desire to talk to anyone, especially not someone who could be manipulating him to get whatever it is he must want from him. Rather, he _needs_ to talk to him. Dante himself has made it quite obvious he knows something about his past. How much or what he knows remains to be seen, however. Maybe he even knows what his purpose is. Though, even if what he tells him is nothing but more lies, what difference is it to him? At least it will provide him with another thin thread of stability to cling to for the next few centuries. 

He doesn't know when it was that he willed himself to stand from the bed, nor does he know how he came to be walking down the stairs, but upon seeing Dante, sleeping on his back on the couch, a magazine covering his face, he becomes aware of his surroundings. Stopping a few steps short of the bottom, he notes the lack of boots on his feet as they sit propped up on the couch's armrest, arms crossing his chest loosely. A quick glance to the nearby windows and he can see it's still dark outside. 

Stepping down to the ground-level floor, he approaches slowly. Not with a particular desire to be sneaky, but rather to not be excessively loud and wake him. He seems like the type of human to sleep heavily after all, so he doesn't gives much care to the antique wooden planks creaking slightly under his feet, or the faintly detectable sound of his feet meeting the floor as he makes his way around the lumpy-looking couch. He watches him for a portion of this, making sure he doesn't see any signs of him waking - a hand flinching, a change in breathing rhythm - before turning his attention to Dante's desk. 

There, he sees the silver-threaded, thick book still awaiting him, resting in the same spot Lady had placed it in. It must have the answers he needs. He knows it. He can feel it. But he can't touch it. Even if he were to cover his hand with cloth to pick the book up, his skin can still detect the nearby toxic metal. He would need a pair of thick, leather gloves - and even then that may only protect him for a few minutes, given his skin is still not in tip-top shape. Approaching the book, he looks down at it longingly. He wants to reach for it, but knows the sting of pain he'll get if he tries to touch it. Touching something he knows will hurt will do him no good right now.

"Y'know," Dante voice prompts him to snap his vison over to the couch, though he cannot see him from behind the couch "vampires are supposed to be one, if not the most, stealthiest species on the planet. But I could hear you as soon as you left my room." the human finally comes into view as he sits up on the couch, the magazine having disappeared from his face as he looks to him "Don't tell me you're already losing your touch."

"I wasn't hunting you." he states plainly, rotating his body to face him, away from the book.

"Well, it's good to know I'm not on the menu." he says this with jest, but as the demon looks away idly, he realizes he is indeed feeling peckish. Though, of course, he's not going to admit this. "C'mon, follow me."

Looking up with blank neutralism, he continues to stand in place as he watches the human stand up, ultimately leaving the room for the adjoining kitchen. Shuffling behind him, his thoughts are empty as he autopilots his movements. Looking at the floor, hands in his pockets, he stops when Dante does. 

"Oh, here, before I forget." he hears the jingling of keys as he glances up to him, seeing him pull out a single key after rummaging through several of his coat pockets. As Dante holds it out, he takes it, eyeing the plain gold key skeptically before looking up at him with confusion. "It's a door key."

"Door key? I already have the key to the basement."

"Oh, right, hold on…" he again rummages, only deepening the crease in the demon's brows, before ultimately pulling out a grey key "That's the new key to the basement."

"The.. new key?" he hesitates before adding the grey key to the growing collection in his hand.

"Huh… probably should've gotten you a key ring." Dante seems to talk to himself as he looks at the two loose keys Nero now holds, apparently ignoring his question.

"What the hell is going on?" his irritation grows rapidly. He watches the hunter briefly point to the grey key.

"Basement key" he repeats before pointing to the gold key "and that's a copy of the front door key. Just in case you need it."

"I, uh… okay." he loses the motivation to continue prodding him for questions, though his confusion remains. 

Dropping his gaze once more, he notices Dante remaining stationary for a few more moments, probably trying to figure him out, before making his way to the basement door. No longer under his heavy gaze, Nero looks up enough to watch him enter the underground room as he follows behind blindly. It's only when he passes through the entryway that he realizes the once grungy, decaying wood door has been replaced with a much nicer, maroon-colored wooden bedroom door, much like Dante and Trish's. Furrowing his eyebrows, he tries to figure out the meaning of this before Dante interrupts his thoughts.

"I disconnected the metal sliding door, so you don't have to worry about it accidentally locking you in or out." 

Looking around, he notices the runner carpet below their feet, semi-perfectly covering the dirty, chipped concrete steps with a nicely accented carpet running down the entire length of the staircase. 

"But it's easy enough to reconnect if there's another… problem." 

Nero opens his mouth to speak, but finds his jaw to be simply hanging open wordlessly - he's not even sure what he wants to ask at this point. Seeming to intentionally keep him in suspense, Dante remains quiet, only speaking again once they reach the bottom of the staircase. 

"Whaddya think?" he says as he gestures broadly to the room.

The old storage boxes, cobwebs, carcasses, his old, recently broken bed - it's all gone. Everything is clean - even the dim ceiling light fixture has been replaced, with other light stands scattered about to provide additional lighting. One corner of the room has bedroom furniture - a decent-looking bed, larger than his previous one, its wooden headrest pushed against the stone wall as two nightstands sit on either side - with a height-level dresser sitting against the other wall in the corner. Another corner has been arranged like a living room, sporting a modest couch, shelving units filled with what appears to be varying books and movies, a tv stand-

_Is that a different TV?_

This one appears slimmer, yet wider, than the one he used before. 

"The minifridge is for blood bags. None in there right now though, we've kinda tapped out all the nearby blood banks."

Glancing to another part of the room, he hadn't even noticed the minifridge fitting snuggly on the other side of the staircase's wall, next to a small table and two rustic chairs. Looking around at all the new objects and improvements with astonishment, his wonder quickly lowers to suspicion.

"Trish put some dark chocolate in there though." Dante chuckles "I don’t know how much, but apparently enough to-" "-why are you doing this?" Nero interrupts.

"Hm?" Dante hums innocently as he looks to him.

"I don't know much about currency or cost of things… but I know this couldn't of been cheap and I know you're not exactly rolling in cash." his uncertainty grows as his eyebrows crease further at him.

"It wasn't too bad. Bought everything but the mattress second-hand, some of it was stuff given to me by some of my clients and so forth. Came out pretty good. But you're gonna get bored eventually and want to come along with me to my jobs, so you'll work it off eventually." he shrugs "I'm not worried about it."

Blinking heavily with bewilderment as he stares at him with furrowed eyebrows, he wants to argue with him for several reasons - firstly for the assumption he'll help him in his grotesque extermination missions - but he instead finds himself chuckling airily as he shakes his head, a very small, disbelieving smile showing in the corner of his mouth. 

"I still don't know what you think I know, about the Order or about whatever it is you want, but I hope this ends up being worth it for you. When the hell did you have time for this? I thought I was only out for a couple hours, it's still dark out."

"Ah," Dante laughs lightly "you went to bed last night, not tonight. Trish just left about an hour ago, she had a job waiting on her. She actually picked out a lot of the stuff in here."

"That makes sense. Considering it all actually looks nice." he jabs as he begins to slowly walk around the room, observing all the changes more closely.

"Ha, very funny." his tone is sarcastic "We were gonna just clean it up, replace what needed replacing, but eh, after a while we just figured we outta go ahead and make it an actual room."

"It'd make a good guest room to rent out." Nero notes, given it's basically its own minihouse. 

"What'd you mean?" 

"Well, it'd help you get some more income if you rented it out."

"Are you…planning on leaving?" his questioning tone prompts Nero to turn to look at him, his own expression mirroring Dante's confusion. 

"Are you planning on me staying after this is all over?"

"I mean I'm not going to force you to stay, but you're welcome to do whatever you want. It's your room."

 _My room?_ he tries to comprehend the notion as frown etches deeply into his face. Taking several moments to look around the room, he feels an overwhelming sense of panic as he struggles to process his own thoughts. _I'm not… I'm not a human. Not anymore, at least. Humans get their own rooms, their own homes… vampires live on the streets. I can't do this._ he steps backwards, accidentally bumping his back into the dresser as he feels the increasing need to run away, though his legs are beginning to feel too jelly-like to withstand running _This isn't right. There's nothing I could know - could've known - that's worth this much. I'm stealing at this point - taking advantage. I can't do that, I've already taken enough from them. I don't deserve my own room…_

"Hey, hey - what's the matter?" he can hear Dante talk, though his vision is tunneling onto the staircase - his only exit.

"I can't - this is too much… I can't… I don't…"

"Hey, listen." he interrupts "Look at me." Nero hesitates, but eventually complies, tightly gripping the dresser behind him to quell his anxiety. Groaning, the panic setting in deeper as he drops his gaze soon after, preferring to look at the ground over eye contact. His emotions become conflicting - he wants to run far, far away from here, while at the same time he wishes there was somewhere right below his feet that he could hide away in.

"I don't…. I don't know what my plans are, I don't know what I'm doing, I don't know anything. I have…" he hesitates, trying to cumulate his thoughts into a coherent sentence "just… all these things, in my mind," he taps his own head with a single finger for emphasis "and I know they're there now, all these memories of a life I don't know, through the eyes of someone foreign to me… I remember some of them, I remember Kyrie, I remember her now. But I don't remember anything else. But I _know_ they're in there! I just…" he both feels and hears the wooden frame of the dresser crack slightly, creating two palm-shaped indentions, before quickly releasing his grip on the furniture to cross his arms across his chest. Taking a moment to calm himself, exhaling loudly with eyes closed, he looks up at him only once he feels like he's in somewhat good control of himself. "They're just right out of my reach. I've tried, I've been trying so hard to remember. I want to know. I want to know what happened to me. I don't hear their voice in my head anymore, they haven't talked to me since the graveyard. I don't know if they're still there and just not speaking, or if they're actually gone, but without them in my head, constantly manipulating my own thoughts, everything's been both clearer and harder to understand. I _want_ to know - to understand everything. But I just can't get to my own memories." he can hear the pathetic desperation in his own voice.

He looks at him for a moment or two, Dante's expression unchanging, before the corners of the man's mouth curl up into a small smile. 

"That was her name?"

"What?"

"Kyrie. That's her name?"

"Oh…" he looks away, not realizing he let slip her name in his frenzied speech "Yes, uh.." he looks back up at him "yes. It was."

"You know, sometimes talking to someone else helps to remember. You'll just get frustrated repeating it all in your own head." 

"No. I'm ok." he insists, despite knowing he very much doesn't look okay. He looks at him, Dante's intense gaze on him for a few more silent moments, wondering what's going on in his head, before seeing him nod understandably.

"Okay." he verbalizes "You need to eat, though."

"I should be okay," he ignores the small ping in his stomach "you said you gave me plenty."

"No, we gave you enough to snap you out of bloodlust. You're not starving, but you need to get your strength up if you want to take them down."

 _Take them down? Who's the- Oh. Right._ he had forgotten Dante's ill-fated plan for him to take down his former master. 

"Dante, I still don't know if-" "-okay, okay," Dante quickly interjects "maybe not for that reason. But you're only hurting yourself if you don't eat. You can't hide out in the shop forever." Looking down briefly at the floor, he knows he's right - but he'll be damned to admit it to him.

"Do… do I have to eat…" he shutters "…your blood?" he questions distastefully.

" 'fraid so."

"Can I just wait for the blood banks to get more blood?"

"You can, but that can take a week or so. They've only been giving me expired blood." As Nero lets out a heavy sigh of resignation, the human speaks up again. "Oh c'mon, it's not that bad! It's still blood!"

"Neck or wrist?" he mumbles like a disgruntled teenager being told what to do. The idea of it is still no less repulsive, but he does at least know one thing - this weakened form is problematic and refusing the only thing that will return his strength will do him no good.

"Eh?" he looks surprised, as if he didn't really expect him to accept his offer.

"Do you want me to feed from your neck or wrist?" Nero reiterates "Neck is quicker and less painful, but wrist isn't as intimate."

"Are you asking me if I want to be intimate with you?" His smirk, coupled with his suggestive tone, sends a spark of irritation through the previously melancholy demon.

"Wrist it is." he holds out a pale, slightly taloned hand out expectantly. 

"Okay, just be gentle with me." 

Ignoring his comments, he harshly grabs his wrist once it's within his grip, just to show his growing annoyance.

"Ow!" he yelps, though Nero knows he couldn't possibly of hurt him "I said be gentle. It's my first time!"

"You're one innuendo away from me biting straight through the bone." he warns in a neutral tone as he repositions his hand, flipping his wrist to its underside as he holds his gloved palm with one hand, his forearm with the other. 

Dante must've wisely taken his threat seriously, as he doesn't hear another peep out of him. The process of feeding through the wrist is simple, but tedious and time-consuming, as the ulnar and radial arteries in the wrist are smaller and farther from the heart than the jugular artery. He's only ever fed from the wrist when the neck is not an option, for one reason or another. Certainly, he's never had to be concerned for the victi-… participant's well-being. Tracing the man's wrist with a single fingertip, feeling where the pulsating arteries are located, he notes the slow, calm beat under his skin. 

_How can he be so calm, knowing he's about to be in pain?_

Nevertheless, he proceeds, only shallowly piercing the thin layer of skin. His body, unenthused by the prospect of drinking such harsh-tasting blood, never even changed the position of his teeth. It's good news for Dante at least - his teeth are naturally sharp to a degree, still allowing him to cut through skin with relative ease, but not so much that he must take great care to not crunch through his wrist simply by accident. Initially, the substance slowly seeping into his mouth produces a near-gag response from him as he forces himself to continue feeding. The intrusive thoughts of what could possibly be in his blood that makes it so awful only serve to further disgust him. The process takes some time though, and to his relief he finds the taste becoming more and more bearable. Revolting still, but at least by the end he doesn't feel the desire to hurl it all back up. The amount he's able to procure from his wrist is meager at best, but after several minutes of this his jaw is beginning to ache from being held in such a particular position.

Removing his mouth, he keeps his hold on the man's limb, observing the wounds first to ensure they do not continue to bleed unhindered. He only gets a quick glance, however, before Dante pulls himself from his grip to look at his wrist himself. Irritably, he watches him as he swipes the corners of his own mouth, finding them to be dry and clean. Perhaps the only upside to feeding via the wrist, then, is it is by far less messy than the neck.

"Not bad." he comments before putting his hands in his pockets, looking to him.

"There shouldn't be any side effects, I didn't take much."

"Why's that?"

"Jaw started to hurt." he rubs at his own, now sore jawline. 

"Well," Dante sighs "it's probably enough to at least keep you from regressing." 

"Thanks." he mumbles with a dropped gaze, though he genuinely means it.

"Don't sweat it." he chuckles, standing there for another moment or two before turning away from him without another word to the bewildered vampire. 

"Hey, wait!" he calls out upon realizing he's leaving, watching him make his way to the stairs "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

"Uh, to bed?" he pauses to glance back at him, though he remains at the foot of the stairs.

"No. I want answers."

"To?"

"Everything."

"Nero, I can't just-" "-no, no. I'm tired of this cat and mouse game." his tone is firm, but calm for once "You keep giving me bits and pieces of information of who I am - or was. You keep telling me you'll tell me, but yet you keep finding one reason or another to postpone. I want to know what you know, and I want to know it now." He sees the man turn his body to face him, exhaling deeply with a somber look.

"I can't."

"Tell me or I'll walk out that door and whatever it is you're hoping to get from me will die the moment the morning's sunlight rises." After all, what does he have to lose at this point, if he can't even know who he is?

"I know you're frustrated- " " _Dante._ " his voice threatening "-but I don't want to put things in your head until we know you're not going to remember by yourself. I have an idea on what might work, but if I go telling you everything I know, I'll just be putting false memories in your head and we won't know what you remember that's actually true and what you took to be true from me."

"And what's your brilliant plan that you have yet to tell me about?" Nero crosses his arms across his chest.

"We're going back to the island."

"But we already-" "-yeah, and you remembered some. With part of your memory back, maybe, if we go through the island again, you'll start to remember other things too."

"And if that doesn't work?" the demon questions after a minute of thought.

"Then I'll tell you everything I know." 

He ponders this momentarily, before ultimately looking to the ground as he nods in agreement.

"On one condition. You need to tell me exactly what you're wanting from me." The human visibly hesitates with this notion. "I don't need background information. I just want to know if you're just toying with me or if you actually have some master plan behind all this."

For a moment, it looks as if Dante would refuse this request too, as he merely stares down the vampire as the seconds tick by, apparently deep in thought. Nodding, he drops his sight of him.

"You remember mentioning my brother before, yeah?" he questions, though soon adds to this, probably noticing the confusion on his face "Back in the beginning. When I caught you."

"Oh." he realizes "Yeah, yeah I remember." he almost lets Dante speak again, but quickly interrupts before he has the chance, having made another realization "I didn't have anything to do with his death. That much I know. I only heard the rumors of his death."

"No," he chuckles "that's not what I'm asking about. Here, take a seat." 

Removing his large sword from its holster on his back, Dante pulls one of the two chairs out before sitting in one himself, the old metal frame obviously struggling beneath his large size while Nero's own weight barely procures a squeak. Leaning back, arms still crossing, he watches the other in anticipation. He watches as Dante holds his sword, its tip digging into the floor as he holds it by its hilt vertically.

"My brother died when we were twelve, long after you had been turned. You would've remembered something that recent - there wouldn't of been need for you to remember your life in that case." he pauses "You see, our father," purely out of old habits, he feels himself involuntarily flinch at the mere mention of the man infamous to any and all vampires "he gave us each our own swords just before he was killed some years before my brother's death. Mine, he said," Dante pauses as he showcases his blade "he found in the middle of an old vampire's nest, abandoned or killed off long ago, covered in blood. He said that, judging by the design," he points to the demonic skull near the hilt "it was a hunter's sword. But it had human blood on it. He never found out who its previous owner was or how it got there, but he came up with the idea that it must've been made by a skilled hunter who ended up turning and going against his fellow man. So he named it Rebellion. Probably not the best idea to give your son a sword from someone who probably had a pretty bad fate, but oh well, she's served me well." he looks over his sword as he speaks.

"My brother, however," he continues "got another sword, named Yamato. It disappeared when he died. You know - or at least knew - where this sword is. That's the reason behind all this."

"You mean to tell me I knew, when I was alive, where your brother's sword ended up after he died, some four hundred years before either one of you was born?" he raises an eyebrow "I'm pretty sure time travel hasn't been invented yet, Dante."

"No, no, of course not. See, that's why I didn't want to tell you - it doesn't make any sense right now." he chuckles "You'll understand once you remember. But you're my only hope of getting my brother's sword back. You're the only one living - well, kinda - that would know where it's at."

"I suppose nothing you read about me told you anything about this sword then?"

"Not really."

"Then what makes you think I knew?"

At this, Dante only smirks at him, forcing Nero to think it over to himself in silence before the human stands from his chair. Gruffly, he pats the vampire on the shoulder, before turning away once more for the stairs.

"G'night, kid. We'll head back to the island once you're healthy enough to travel, alright?" he questions rhetorically, not waiting for Nero's response before leaving his field of vision.

"Hey, wait, before you go.." he quickly interjects, with him returning into his line of sight in response "…I think that, when I'm better, I do want to at least try and kill them. I still don't know if it's possible, but… I want to at least try. When this is over with, will you promise me that you'll kill me with that one stake? The one you used on your friend?"

He watches as Dante seems to be hesitating, clearly debating in his head how to answer.

"I want to be able to see her again." he adds "I don't know if there's a heaven or hell… but if there is, then I know she's in heaven. I've done a lot of bad things, but… if I die a vampire, I'll definitely be going to hell. If I can at least die a human again, maybe, just maybe, I can see her again."

"I understand." he quietly confirms to Nero with a small nod, who reciprocates in acknowledgment, though nothing else is said between them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Knock knock!" Dante announces as he enters through the basement door, having not actually knocked on the door.

"It doesn't really count if you're already in the room." Nero counters, his eyes still trained on the TV in front of him. 

Snuggly covered up with a navy blue blanket on the couch, he hasn't moved much from his position the past couple days, other than to sleep in his bed. Dante had left him nearly an entire bookcase's worth of DVDs, after all, and keeping himself distracted with countless hours of television is better than facing the crushing reality of, well, his new and very uncertain life. 

"Did you purposely give me a bunch of movies based on vampires?" he questions as he looks to the bottom of the staircase, though Dante has not appeared yet, he can hear him laughing "The previous ones were tolerable, I actually found one to be fairly accurate, but this one is just plain awful." 

"No, that was Trish's doing too. I wouldn't be surprised if she threw in a few romantic comedies too."

"A couple of these basically are romantic comedies." he sees him appear at the foot of the stairs, watching him saunter over. He notes the unusual lack of weapons on him - he often goes without his bulky sword, but he's never been without his trusty pistols. It's either a display of trust or stupidity, though the latter is more likely given Nero's history. "Why is it that humans, if they don't find demons terrifying, instead find them erotic? I've never understood the psychology behind that."

"It's the whole bad boy fantasy times ten." he explains as he sloppily sits beside him, causing the whole couch to squeak as his weight settles on it.

"But why? Do vampire-human unions actually occur?"

"Well, actually, there is one species that relies on humans to reproduce. So you can probably blame them for all the vampire romance movies." His curiosity piqued, he squints skeptically. 

He wants to call bullshit on this, but, after all, he never even knew there are different species of vampire. It didn't matter where they came from or what they were - if they were not part of his old pack, they were enemies needing to be dealt with. The thought they may not even be of his kind, and therefore have no interest in taking over their territory, never occurred to him. As Dante meets his eyes, he apparently realizes Nero's disbelief.

"What, you don't believe me?" he chuckles "Yeah, they're called Daywalkers. It's an all-male species. So they have to find a female human to turn just to reproduce."

"A _willing _female?"__

__"Oh, it's easier than you think. They're physically almost exactly like a human, but they have a few tip offs. I've only gotten a call or two about them, they don't usually cause any trouble. Pretty rare species."_ _

__"What…" he hesitates, briefly looking away from him out of embarrassment "what kind am I?"_ _

__"Ah, I'm sure there's a more accurate name, but we usually just call them Bloodlusters. Unless someone finds a den hunters only ever get calls about them when one of 'em has gone into bloodlust."_ _

__Nodding his head, he averts his gaze to the floor. The movie is still rolling on the screen in front of him, but he pays it no attention, only barely registering the muffled voices coming from it. Dante, either being blissfully unaware of his internal conflict or immediately recognizing it, quickly moves onto another topic before Nero has time to return to his depression._ _

__"Anyways, I came down to tell you I'll be able to get you another batch of bags here in the next couple days, only about a liter's worth though." the vampire looks up at him "But you've already gone three days without food, so…"_ _

__Groaning loudly, he cringes deeper into the protection of his blanket, hoping maybe he can disappear within it._ _

__"Do I have to? I never used to feed this often."_ _

__"You gotta eat at least a liter every few days for now."_ _

__"I don't want to…" he mumbles, still hesitant to drink such a distasteful substance. He'd rather just wait another couple days._ _

__"C'mon, are you really going to make me have to convince you every time?" Dante questions, a bit of annoyance in his tone "Listen, you'll probably only have to do this a few more times, then you'll be good enough to just eat the blood bags. Alright?"_ _

__"I just don't get why you taste so bad. Do you have HIV?"_ _

__"What? No, of course-" "-hepatitis? Malaria?" Nero interrupts._ _

__"No, I'm completely healthy." he laughs._ _

__"I doubt that." he mutters. No human with blood that bad is never totally healthy._ _

___Perhaps I can test his blood myself?_ he wonders. He was able to analyze Trish's blood, after all, but his senses are certainly not as heightened as they were when he was leaning towards imminent starvation. As Dante harshly shoves his hand into his downcast vison, balled into a fist with the underside of his wrist facing upwards, he sighs heavily as he reluctantly positions his limb for feeding. _ _

__\---------------------------------_ _

__"Are you getting anything?" Dante breaks his concentration._ _

__It's been ten minutes so far, and yet he's been unable to procure any more than he had before. The amount of effort he's having to put into extracting enough blood while also not damaging the wrist, his jaw having started aching a couple minutes ago already, is exhausting. So much so that he stopped taking note of how disgusted he is by the man's blood. Removing his sharp teeth from his skin, he exhales loudly as he looks down at his wrist in disappointment._ _

__"No, not really. Maybe a half liter at best."_ _

__"Do you want to try the neck?" he offers, to which Nero looks up to him, unimpressed, as he drops his arm._ _

__"Are you going to make jokes if I do?"_ _

__"…No." he says ingeniously "Just don't suck me dry, okay?" His smirk gives away the underlying meaning behind his request._ _

__"See, that right there, that's why I won't do it." he irritably rolls his eyes at him._ _

__"Okay okay, I'm sorry." he chuckles "That's the only one, I swear."_ _

__"Just.." he squeezes the bridge of his nose irritably before continuing "just turn towards me and stretch your neck out for me, alright? I don't want to touch you more than I have to." he grumbles._ _

__He half-expects some sort of half-wit response, but receives nothing but a small smirk as the human complies. Leaning over towards him - struggling to do so since he wishes to keep their bodies a respectful distance away from each other - he tries to figure out what to do with his hands. Generally when he feeds, his food is unconscious and uncaring if he caresses the other side of their neck, firmly holding the head in place as the other hand keeps their body in position. But Dante is not unconscious, and, knowing him, he won't be able to resist making lude jokes if held in such a manner. He first grabs his upper arms, though quickly releases him, before moving to his shoulders instead. Deciding he doesn't like this either, he simply places his hands on his own thighs. It's an awkward position, leaning over so dramatically with no way to brace himself, but lying his hands on him is simply not an option. As he cautiously approaches his neck, he struggles to keep balance, eventually falling onto him before even coming in contact with his neck._ _

__"Okay, fine," he shouts, mostly to himself in frustration than anger, as he quickly flings himself off of Dante and the couch itself "I'll just do it from behind." Dante says nothing in response. "Just sit normally." he mutters as he rounds behind the couch._ _

__Using the back of the couch to brace his hands, Dante repositions himself to be leaning back, his neck generously stretched out. Visibly checking out the area, Nero looks for any blemishes on the skin. Moles, new or old wounds, scars - anything that can make penetrating down into the artery difficult. He sees no such complications, but does notice something strange._ _

__"Did you shower?" he questions with audible surprise, noticing how squeaky clean his skin is upon touching the surface of his skin with his fingertips._ _

__"Yup. I always shower before a date." he sniggers "Oh, sorry." he quickly adds, apparently remembering their prior agreement._ _

__He allows this likely-not-last slip-up to slide with a simple look of disdain, which Dante cannot see anyhow, before moving downward. Hovering barely above the surface, the warmth of his skin radiating up to his cold lips, he closes his eyes as he listens to Dante's heart beating rhythmically just below him. His heartrate is a tad slower than he would expect, likely from his athletic build - in-shape humans, especially males, tend to have a slow at-rest heartbeat. Exhaling slowly, he inhales at an equal pace, allowing him to feed for the next few minutes without having to stop for another breath of air._ _

__His hearing sharpening as the sound of his thumping heart fill his ears, he's able to pinpoint exactly where his jugular is. His body, either already becoming accustomed to the displeasing taste of his blood or simply beginning to regain the strength needed just to properly feed, is even responding as it should. As his hearing becomes more and more overcome with the singular sound of his heart beating, he feels his teeth - his mouth, really - metamorphosizing to accommodate having to pierce through the thicker skin of a neck. It's not much of a change, merely longer, sharper teeth only slightly rearranging their positions, only a fraction of the process he would normally undergo, but it's a positive sign at least. Without delaying further - the quicker he starts the sooner this'll be over - he plunges into the soft skin, expertly digging straight into his artery with minimal damage. From there, his tongue will do the rest, since his teeth are only good for piercing, not ingesting._ _

__Some minutes later, he's extracted what he needs for now. Luckily for him, it wasn't as awful as he was expecting, he was mostly too concerned with swallowing before his tongue had the chance to taste. Removing his teeth from Dante's body, he quickly realizes his mistake when glancing down at the wounds he's left behind. He punctured a tad too deeply. Unrestricted, they ooze with blood, quickly streaming down the side of his neck before Nero, panicking, covers them with the only thing he has - his hand._ _

__"I- uh- went a bit too deep." he explains with haste as the blood begins to seep through his fingers, though at a noticeably slower rate. He glances around the room for something, anything, to cover the wounds more adequately, but of course he has nothing in his possession to _stop_ bleeding._ _

__"No worries, I had a feeling you did." Dante says strangely calmly, gently tapping Nero's hand to move it away - which he does - before slapping on a thick pad of gauze with his other hand "I always keep some dressing on me."_ _

__"For when vampires bite down too deeply?" he questions as he observes his very bloodied hand, the blood still fresh enough to be slowly sliding down his own fingertips as he holds them in the air, before shivering with a revolting expression as he ignores the appendage in favor of looking down at Dante._ _

__"Vampire bites, werewolf scratches, chimera burns… you name it."_ _

__Nero watches him stand from the couch with ease. Given how much blood he took - a total of approximately two liters in all - he would expect him to at least be a bit wobbly. Humans can be drained of more and still live, but with two liters gone his body should be reacting to the missing blood in some capacity. Given his line of work, it's entirely possible this isn't his first time being fed on._ _

__"You'll start getting some pep in your step again." Dante looks to him with a comforting smirk, though he only reciprocates with a neutral expression "Just give it another week, maybe less. You're free to come up if you want, y'know. You don't gotta be a hermit down here."_ _

__"I know." he sheepishly responds. He watches Dante momentarily observe him, though what exactly he's looking for is unknown to him, before nodding his head, turning away from the demon as he heads back the way he came._ _

__"But if you don't want to come up, that's fine. I'll be back down when I get my hands on those blood bags, alright?" he asks this rhetorically, as he continues on up the stairs without waiting for a response from him._ _

__Looking over to his new hanging wall clock - Trish put it up for him sometime yesterday when he was sleeping - he can see why Dante's quick to leave. It's past four in the morning, well past when the hunter generally goes to sleep. Sleep deprivation and blood loss make a very hellish mixture of fatigue and exhaustion in humans. Hearing him walk away, leaving him to the isolation of the basement once more, his attention is captured by the TV once more, still playing the movie he had been watching. Though this soon loses his interest, as it's just as boring and cheesy as it was before, though he does note the irony in him feeding whilst a rom-com about a vampire plays in the background._ _

__Glancing down at his normal hand, having already forgotten it's still covered in Dante's blood - save for a few droplets that fell from his fingertips to the floor below - he lifts it up to eyelevel once more. Rotating his hand around, he makes a mental note of the coloration, the texture, how fast it's oxidizing, even the consistency of the blood staining his pale, sharply tipped hand red. All are indicators of a human's health, but his seems to check out as normal across the board. Bringing his hand to his lips, he inhales the scent of it deeply. It smells a bit old, since it's been out of the body for several minutes now, but otherwise has no concerning smells to it. In a slow, fluid motion, he licks off the sustenance from his wrist to the tip of his index finger. Toiling with the partial liquid for several moments, he allows it to coat the interior of his mouth completely rather than immediately swallowing it, for the first time taking in every aspect he can detect about his blood._ _

___High sodium. Kinda high glucose too. Probably just ate. Can't tell what blood type…_ he swallows before liberally sweeping up another portion from his hand _I'm not able to tell if he's got any diseases… doesn’t mean they're not there though, just means I can't taste it…__ _

__As this second portion too is ingested, his tongue eager to clean up the rest from his hand, he makes a startling realization._ _

___Speaking of taste, it tastes…. normal?_ _ _

__Furrowing his brows, though this revelation doesn't stop him from lapping up the rest, it does bewilder him. He distinctly remembers actively having to go against his body's desire to heave the moment his blood touches his tongue, and yet, here he is, perfectly willing to eat up the scraps left on his limb. Though, really, this isn't too surprising. If all your given is shit to eat, eventually that shit will start tasting more and more like fine cuisine as your body forgets what _real_ food tastes like. _ _

__~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~_ _

__Lazily lying haphazardly across his couch, his security blanket still firmly wraps around him. He's unsure how long he's been on his back, staring up at the concrete roof, but if his aching joints and restless muscles indicate anything, it's been far too long. He lost interest in watching movies some time ago, finding that although they are helpful in distracting him for a short time, his dark thoughts are still there, waiting for him as soon as the film is over._ _

__For a while, that's all his mind would focus on. But rather than becoming frustrated as he did before, trying to conjure up more memories of his life before, he would simply rewind each memory with bitter sorrow. Slowing them down, reliving each moment, the happiness, the feeling of knowing you're loved - the emotions he wishes he could feel as strongly as he had before. Like the movies, his memories would provide comfort, before the harsh realization that these are only memories hits him once more. He can never go back to that time of happiness. He doesn't have the _capacity_ for such a feeling anymore. _ _

__Then he began to wish he didn't have these memories at all. He didn't ask for any of this - he didn't _want_ any of this. He was doing just fine before Dante caught him. Was it a happy, full filling life? Of course not, but he was blissfully unaware of living any other way. He was satisfied with never knowing he had a past life. He lived confidently, only second to his old Master in terms of strength, with relative freedom to come and go as he pleases - so long as he obeyed whatever was requested from him. Now he lives in a constant state of insecurity and weakness, trapped in his former captor's house until he's able to fend off his new, and numerous, enemies. Dante forced him into this, and now that there's no turning back, he has to rely on him. _ _

__But as time went on, he would go against these thoughts. Dante did him a favor by doing all this. He could've just killed him when he realized his memories were gone, presumably forever. Even if he does eventually help him to find his brother's sword, a sentimental momento isn't much worth the trouble he's caused the human. He may have been less conflicted before, but it was a disgusting existence. He's never relished in his previous actions, he never felt anything at all, in fact. It never felt wrong to him. Because how could it? He knew of no other way. But now, with his head so much clearer, he understands all the injustices he's done as being just that. How many families did he tear apart without a care, simply because he was told to add them to the pack? How many suffered at his hands, whether it was his victim or their loved ones hearing they've gone missing?_ _

__His life is difficult now. His guilt will likely never die, his remorse for the past, his longing for his human life. All of it will always haunt him. This internal struggle he feels, his emerging humanity fighting off his demonic desires, will be with him until the end. Even if he does regain all of his memories, they won't be able to erase the past 400 years of his injustices. But he wouldn't have it any other way. To die with purpose, with the slight hope he'll one day see his love again, means far more to him than living indefinitely with no conscious as a monster's lackey._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk why but I kept having to revise this, I just wasn't happy with it before. 
> 
> Anywho, next chapter is gonna get juicer, for those thinking "we're 6 chapters and almost 70k words in, where the fuck is the D/N?!". I definitely haven't been both putting it off and looking forward to it because I feel I'm bad at writing romance :') I'll make up for it <3
> 
> *Also, yeah, when he bloodlust's, he looks like his triggered form in DMC5. Didn't go into in depth details about his appearance, cause, y'know, google -_('-')_- But his human form is how he looks in DMC4. Not DMC5. You can pry his adorable, fluffy hair and anime looks from my cold, dead hands Capcom!


End file.
